


The Lengths That I Will Go To

by Politzania



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU - 1990's, Ace!Pepper Potts, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bisexual!Tony Stark, Deaf Clint Barton, Espionage, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, No Smut, Pining, Slow Build, Young Tony Stark, keeping secrets, not exactly a happy ending, very very slow build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 92,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8761084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/pseuds/Politzania
Summary: After forty-five years,  Howard Stark discovers the wreck of the Valkyrie and that Captain America somehow survived the crash and nearly a half-century of being frozen in the ice. Tony Stark,  having been brought back to the fold after several years of freedom, finds himself face to face with his childhood idol (and teenage crush) when he is recruited to help care for the recovering Captain Rogers, whose existence is being kept a secret.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the second half of 1991, this fic was Inspired by a "what if" that floated around my Tumblr a month or so ago. It wouldn't be seeing the light of day if it weren't for my awesome beta reader, @hddnone! Thanks heaps and heaps!
> 
> Updates once a week: usually mid-week.

_TARGET LOCATED - RECLAMATION IN PROGRESS. STAND BY FOR RETURN ETA ** NO PR AT THIS TIME **_

Huh - so he’d finally done it. All those years of wild goose chasing in the Arctic had finally paid off. Howard had located the Valkyrie - the plane that Captain Steven Grant Rogers had selflessly piloted into the ocean nearly five decades ago, saving countless lives with his noble sacrifice, yada yada yada. 

Tony stifled the desire to make a smart ass response: “Way to Go, Pops” or “Roger on Rogers” and instead typed “ACK - standing by”. He’d only come into his father’s workshop to borrow a micrometer as Dum-E had apparently hidden his somewhere again. Tony was supposed to be monitoring the comm rig on a regular basis while Howard was out on his annual snipe hunt. He’d had been thrilled to take on the responsibility back when he was still a starry-eyed kid, but now? It seemed like a pointless waste of time. 

He glanced up at the map on the wall, the current ten square mile search area outlined in red, with the previous years’ marks tracing back eastward across Greenland, growing fainter as they went. Howard was obsessed and had been since the war. No matter what else was going on in the real world, Howard always made time for his Arctic Expedition sometime between Memorial and Labor Day - five to seven weeks of fruitless searching. It was obvious that even dead and long gone, Captain America meant more to Howard than his own family. 

Tony had always known he wasn’t ever quite good enough for his father; not worthy of the Stark name. God knows he tried; double majoring at MIT and graduating summa cum laude at seventeen. But even four years later, all Howard saw was his failures. The experiments that had gone wrong - but not what he’d learned from them. Impossible expectations leading to disappointments. Even the design work he’d been doing for the family business -- which he knew was years beyond any of their competitors -- seemed begrudgingly accepted at best. Howard didn’t even approve of Tony’s only friend, James Rhodes. 

It wasn’t for what seemed the obvious reason. Dad was surprisingly non-prejudiced for someone of his generation; the Joneses and Moritas were frequent guests at the Stark home. It was that Rhodey stood up to Howard and wouldn’t let him talk to Tony the way he was accustomed to. Tony had told his friend not to bother, that he didn’t care, but he still spoke up. Politely, mind you; Mrs. Rhodes raised her boys to be respectful of their elders, but she’d also made sure they knew the difference between right and wrong. Her son thought the way Howard treated his son was wrong... but Tony had his doubts. 

Rhodey had given him a hard time about going back to live with his parents; however, now that Tony had attained his majority, Howard had pressured him to come back to New York and start getting actively involved in Stark Industries. “Time to face up to your responsibilities, son. I haven’t built this business up from nothing to just give it up to the Board in a few years. Obediah excels in the role of a right hand man, but Stark Industries needs a Stark at the helm.” 

Besides, it wasn’t a big deal. Tony would stay in the guest house while he looked for a place of his own and would barely have to deal with them. It would be nice to spend time with Jarvis and Ana, and maybe see Aunt Peggy -- she tried to make the trip up from DC at least once a month to have dinner with Howard and Maria. 

Aunt Peggy ... he wondered if he should call her, let her know that Dad had at long last found Captain Rogers’ final resting place. Tony had pestered her for stories about “Cap’n ‘Merica” when he was little, had grown up with the posters on his bedroom wall. And as he’d gotten older, he wanted to know more about Steve Rogers, especially what he had been like before Project Rebirth. He thought he might have liked that guy - a scrappy runt who stood up to bullies no matter the cost. He might have liked him a lot. 

And that was one of the many, many secrets Tony was keeping from his father - that he was attracted to men as well as women. At least he thought he was; he was still figuring that out. The posters and the newsreels and promotional films of Captain America had definitely been an influence. Tony wasn’t sure when hero worship had blurred into infatuation, but it wasn’t only Cap’s broad shoulders, amazing cheekbones and magnificent ass that had fueled Tony’s star-spangled fantasies. It was Aunt Peggy’s stories about how the inner Steve stayed the same good man, sincere and thoughtful, even after he’d been transformed into an Adonis. That was what made Tony wish he could have known the man behind the uniform. 

And maybe that futile wish had carried over into his real life. Tony hadn’t really dated in college -- the age difference was a turnoff for most women -- but the few one-night stands he’d had were fun and he’d learned a lot. But there had been the time he’d drunkenly hit on a blond, blue-eyed hunk of a man at a dance club and they’d ended up frantically making out in a dark corner. That incident was seared into his memory, and he longed for more. 

But being the son of Howard Stark meant being in the public eye; an eligible bachelor circled about by society matrons eager to to play matchmaker. The party Maria had thrown for his twenty-first birthday that spring was a perfect example. He’d been propositioned (indirectly and less so) half a dozen times within the first two hours; so when the next offer to “find somewhere quieter” came up, he acquiesced. The subsequent headlines splashed across the tabloids took him a little by surprise; he hadn’t realized the young woman had smuggled a video camera into the room. Maria was appalled, while Howard privately congratulated his son, simply cautioning him to keep a better eye on his surroundings before engaging in extracurricular activities. 

As a result of the scandal, Tony found himself taking on the role of playboy as a defense mechanism as much as anything. The sooner he was identified as a love ‘em and leave ‘em type, the fewer women looking to marry into the family he’d have to fend off. It wasn’t what he wanted, but then again, since when had that ever mattered? 

The next day, Tony went back into Howard’s workshop. He told himself it was to raid his stash of exotic solder alloys, but the first place he looked was the corner where the comm rig was set up. The light was flashing. Tony picked up the fax sheet and received the shock of his life. 

_SGR IS ALIVE - REPEAT - SGR SURVIVED CRASH. SEND JET TO UAK - ETA @ BASE ROUGHLY 72 HRS. KEEP UNDER WRAPS_

Holy shit, Tony thought. That super soldier serum must have been a hell of a thing. He typed another ACK message, followed by “Additional instructions?” While waiting for Howard’s response, Tony discovered that UAK apparently was the international airport code for an airbase in Greenland he wasn’t even going to try to pronounce. The admin in charge of the Stark Industries air fleet thought he was joking, which was fair, as it wouldn’t be the first time Tony had tried to commandeer a company jet for a joyride. 

Tony considered telling Obediah what was going on, but he had always disparaged Howard’s pet project, and besides, Stane was busy running the company while Howard was away. Instead, Tony got his mother involved. Terrifyingly efficient when she wasn’t crawling into a bottle, Maria Stark was someone everyone listened to if they knew what was good for them. Howard was indisputably the boss at Stark Industries, but Maria was the one who worked behind the scenes to help ensure his successes. New York society life was just as cutthroat as the business world, and dirty secrets abounded in both realms. Tony had inherited his finely honed sarcasm and ability to wield words as weapons from the formidable woman who had given birth to him. 

After Maria made it clear that yes, Howard himself requested the jet be in Narsarsuaq three days from now, no she wasn't going to explain why, and if the admin wanted to keep his job, he’d start filing a flight plan ASAP, she joined Tony in the workshop to see what Howard wanted done next.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard sends additional instructions to prepare for Captain Rogers' homecoming. A family friend returns to provide medical care, and Tony is recruited to provide backup support.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my rock star beta hddnone, who has made this story so much better than it would have been otherwise!

_PREP PRIVATE ICU SUITE @ HOUSE - HIRE DISCREET DR *** NO PRESS ***_

Tony still wasn’t sure why Howard was insisting on the whole “no press” thing, as it seemed wildly out of character. Trumpeting his successes to the skies was Pops’ usual mode of operation -- Stark Industries had one of the best publicity departments in the country. But, for once, Tony was willing to follow instructions. 

Before he left the workshop, Tony noticed some changes in the setup from when he’d last lived at home. One corner was set up with a heavy-duty fume hood that was flanked by equipment. On closer inspection, he found an incubator and an autoclave, a centrifuge and a geiger counter, along with lab glassware, and a microscope. It was an odd mix of equipment and left him wondering if old dogs could learn new tricks after all. 

Maria took as her next task sweet-talking Miriam Jarvis, M.D. into taking a break from her job search to come care for Rogers. Seven years older than Tony, Miriam was the adopted daughter of Edwin and Ana, and had been the closest thing he’d had to a sibling when he was young. Graduating at the top of her class from Georgetown University, she had just finished her residency in their hospital’s intensive care unit and was fielding offers from literally all over the country. Miriam’s sense of familial obligation -- and the generous salary she had been offered -- brought her back to New York the morning after Maria’s call. 

With Miriam’s guidance, Maria also put the wheels into motion to set up one of the bedrooms in their New York mansion with all the necessary medical equipment before taking to her own sickbed, a euphemism Tony knew all too well. In the meanwhile, Tony had helped Miriam get up to speed on Project Rebirth, as Howard had reluctantly given him the combination to the majority of the locked file cabinets in his study. 

They spent most of the next two days poring over paperwork that Howard had quietly spirited away from the official SSR/SHIELD archives over the years. Some of the material was clearly copies, but a surprising amount seemed to be the original files, particularly the documentation that tied into Howard’s own Vita-Ray machine. Having heard both Howard and Aunt Peggy’s versions of Steve Rogers’ transformation over the years, Tony found himself fascinated when presented with the factual data that supported those stories. But despite what she was gleaning from the sadly incomplete data, as well as the primitive readings that the expedition’s medic had been able to provide via radio, Miriam was not at all optimistic about Rogers’ recovery. 

“Even taking into consideration that he somehow survived being frozen for nearly a half-century, I don’t see how he’s ever going to regain consciousness. Between the lack of oxygen to his brain and the effect that freezing has on the cellular level...” Howard seemed to share her fatalistic view; which explained his directions on keeping everything hush hush. What was the point of announcing the discovery of Captain America if he was just going to be a vegetable? 

Maria had broken the news to to Aunt Peggy after all; Tony felt in no way equipped to have that conversation. She agreed with Howard’s decision to not make any public announcements regarding the recovery of Captain America at this early juncture. “Peggy’s always been a hard nut to crack,” Maria told Miriam, as Tony not so-subtly eavesdropped from a chair in the corner of the study, “I can’t imagine what she must be feeling... and I don’t believe Howard has ever understood exactly what Steve Rogers means to her.”

It was late in the afternoon on Friday as Tony watched a behemoth of an SUV pull into the garage, followed by one of the SI limos. Howard had called from the airport about two hours previous and Miriam headed out to retrieve her patient. The medic that was part of the exploration party had done what he could to stabilize Rogers during the three days it had taken them to get from the crash site to the Greenland air base, and Miriam had asked that he stay on, at least for the short term, to provide continuity of care. 

Tony’s curiosity got the better of him that evening. While he appreciated the privacy of the guest house, he found himself wanting to be closer to the action. He threw a change of clothes and his toiletry bag into a duffel and took it up to his old bedroom. Maria’s sense of nostalgia meant that it had been left exactly as it was when he went away to college. 

As he was going up the back stairs, he had heard murmurs of conversation, so after he got squared away, Tony oh-so-casually walked by the impromptu hospital room. Howard, Miriam and a man he assumed was the medic were in hushed conference near the window. The bed was perpendicular to the doorway, so he didn’t get a good look at Rogers at first; just a general impression of a large figure under the sheet, pale skin and dark blond hair. 

The next morning, Tony sweet-talked Ana into making blintzes, and took a covered plateful up to the room for Miriam. “I was wondering when you’d show up, kiddo. You’ve always had to be in the thick of things around here,” she said, ruffling his hair as she took the plate. Tony rolled his eyes, somewhat embarrassed, but pleased that she seemed happy to see him. 

“I’m not a kid anymore, Mirrie. I’ve got a college degree. Two of them in fact.” 

“That you do - congratulations. So,” and she gestured to her patient, “kinda seems like something out of a comic book, doesn’t it? ‘Frozen for five decades, Captain America was revived to fight once more for truth, justice and the American Way.’ ” 

“I think that’s Superman’s schtick. Rogers was the star spangled man with a plan, according to the song. But seriously, now that he’s here, what have you found out?” 

“I wish your father would let me take him to a hospital, so I could do an MRI or CT scan, but he’s been absolutely adamant. At least we’ve got an EEG machine on the way,” she sighed. “Rogers’ electrolytes are surprisingly good, as is his blood sugar. The Xrays showed some bone breaks that are almost healed, and possibly some fluid in his lungs, so there’s a danger of pneumonia. But his vitals are steady, and we’re weaning him off the ventilator, as he seems to be breathing on his own fairly well.” 

“Has he shown any signs of... well... being in there?” Tony asked awkwardly. He glanced over at the bed and the unnaturally still figure. 

“Nothing concrete,” she replied hesitantly. “It’s hard to say whether Rogers is aware of anything going on around him or not. We’re getting baseline responses, so we’re treating him as if he were a coma patient at the moment. If you want to be helpful, well, maybe you could talk to him.” 

Tony snorted. “And what would I say? ‘Hey Cap - welcome to the future. No flying cars yet, but we have microwave ovens, car phones and cable TV? We got rid of the Nazis, but the Commies are still a pain in our asses?’ Yeah, I’d be great at that.” 

“Well, you could be a little less snarky about it, but yes, something along those lines,” Miriam responded. “Or even simpler things. Let him know that he’s somewhere safe and that he has friends here. Former coma patients have reported feeling isolated and vulnerable during their recovery, and a friendly voice helped orient and reassure them. Wilson and I can only do so much, especially since it looks like we’ll be pulling twelve-hour shifts. Howard refuses to let me bring in any other staff,” she huffed in frustration. 

“Who’s Wilson?” Tony asked. 

“Sam Wilson, the medic from the expedition. Howard really lucked out when he hired him; he’s a former combat rescue officer - the military medical equivalent of the Green Berets or SEALS. I doubt Rogers would have made it this far without his quick thinking and expertise. You’ll meet him later today.” 

“So, you’re saying I get to be good cop to your bad cops? You poke and prod and I read the good Captain bedtime stories?” Tony wasn’t sure why he was being so defensive. It’s not as if he had any demands on his time at the moment. The latest set of designs he’d submitted were being pored over by Howard’s pet engineers before going to prototype, so he was kind of at loose ends in that respect. And he’d take any excuse he could get for skipping out on at least some of those meetings that Howard insisted he start taking part in. Hell, maybe if he read the SI meeting minutes aloud to Rogers for long enough, the guy would wake up just to tell him to stop boring him to death. “Well, I guess I can spare an hour or so here and there. Give you two a break.” 

“Such a giving heart you have,” she responded dryly. “Come back around lunchtime and bring me a reuben from Ben’s. There wasn’t a deli anywhere in DC that could hold a candle to that place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To get Peggy's perspective on the events so far, check out [ this chapter from the companion fic ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10444104/chapters/23201616)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony takes his first shift with Rogers, and gets rather chatty. Howard takes exception to Tony's assistance, and after Miriam gives her employer a piece of her mind, Howard explains the reason why Captain America's presence needs to stay a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot is starting to thicken... many thanks to hddnone for her rock star beta work!

Miriam’s comments had piqued Tony’s interest as to the planned course of care for Rogers, and the equipment being used. The few vague recollections he had from Psych 101 regarding the different types of brain scans weren’t getting him very far. He had participated as a subject in one study that involved an EEG -- it had been a requirement of the class -- but MRI and CT scans were something new to him. So Tony stopped in at the public library for a few hours, perusing various medical resources, then making copies of a half-dozen medical journal articles to take home and read through. He’d gotten so sucked into his research, that he nearly forgot to fulfill Miriam’s request and had to backtrack to the deli. 

On the way back to the mansion, Tony took a moment to reflect on exactly what was happening. A thawed-out war hero from nearly a half-century ago -- who just happened to be the subject of a ridiculous teenage crush of his -- was currently recuperating in his childhood home, just down the hall from his own bedroom. And he’d been asked to play babysitter. Strange things were indeed afoot down at the Circle K.

Miriam gave Tony the rundown on the equipment when he returned. “We still have Rogers on IV fluids, but we’ve taken him completely off the ventilator, which is great progress. I’d like to check his red and white blood cell counts, but we couldn’t source a hematology machine this quickly. I can do a manual count, but I’d need a microscope.”

“I think I can take care of that,” Tony replied, making a mental note to stop back by his father’s workshop later. 

“That would be helpful, thanks!” She pointed out the pulse oximeter clipped to Rogers’ finger, and the electrodes on his chest which led to a machine standing next to the bedside. “This monitor tracks heart rate, respiration rate, blood pressure and pulse. I’ve had to recalibrate the default settings, as the serum seems to have revved up his metabolism. I’m just glad we had some reference material to work off of, so we know what Rogers’ normal readings should look like. Here’s his chart - we’re recording vitals once an hour, making sure they stay within these ranges.” 

Tony asked about the thin tube threaded up Rogers’ nose, while wincing in sympathy. “That’s a nasogastric feeding tube,” she replied. “With that high metabolism I just mentioned, we’re having to provide him with nutrition on an almost-constant basis. He’d waste away to nothing within the week otherwise. Wilson had to syringe-feed him a slurry of orange juice, powdered milk and peanut butter once he realized the enormous amount of calories Rogers needs.” 

Miriam then handed over a walkie-talkie, saying, “And speaking of an enormous amount of calories, I’m heading out to the garden to eat this wonderful sandwich you so kindly delivered. Then I’ll probably go into a food coma for a couple of hours.”

Tony raised an eyebrow and nodded towards Rogers. “Kinda insensitive wording there, Mirrie.” 

“Very funny, Tony. Anyway, call me if the numbers on the monitors go outside the parameters we just went over. If for some reason you can’t get through to me, Sam’s pager number is right here.” Miriam pointed to the top of the clipboard hanging next to their patient’s bed. “Got it, squirt?”

“Ugh - enough with the nicknames! I got it - now shoo.” He waved her out the door, closing it behind her. He had to admit, it was just a bit unsettling to be left alone with the comatose Captain. Especially since he was supposed to talk to him. Not that Tony had a problem with talking out loud to no particular audience. Rhodey had caught him nattering away countless times while he tinkered in their dorm room, or in the makeshift workshop they’d put together in the basement of their apartment building. For that matter, half the reason he’d made Dum-E responsive to voice commands was so he’d have an excuse for talking to the ‘bot. 

So he sat down next to the bed, feeling only a little self-conscious. “Um, hello, Captain Rogers. I’m Tony. Tony Stark. Howard’s son. I’m sure you remember Howard - the cocky SOB who flew you into enemy territory on your first mission and made you your shield? Anyways, he went looking for you after you took down that plane full of Nazi bombs.” 

“I’m afraid it took him a while, though. A really long while... like about forty-five years. He started as soon as he could, after the war ended. We won by the way - I bet you’re glad to hear that. It took dropping a couple of nuclear bombs on Japan, though. And now there’s a bunch of nukes out there - we have them, the Soviets have them, and several other countries do too. No one’s used one since 1945, though, which, frankly, is kind of a surprise, given human nature.”

“Like I was saying, it took awhile. After all, you didn’t give us any coordinates, or even whether you were ditching over land or water. Kind of a dick move there, Rogers. Anyways, Howard finally located the Valkyrie. The plan was to recover your... um... remains and give you a proper burial. Surprised the hell out of everyone that you’d managed to survive.”

“So he brought you back here, to New York City, to recuperate. You’re not in a hospital, though - Pops got kind of weird about that, for some reason. Wants to keep you a secret for now. So you’re actually staying in one of our guest rooms, here at our house. But don’t worry, the docs are taking good care of you.” Tony paused for a minute, finally getting up the courage to look more closely at the man in the bed. 

The posters still had hanging on his bedroom walls were mostly illustrations that Tony had assumed played up Captain America’s good looks; but it turned out that not a single artist had done Steve Rogers justice. Okay, so maybe he was unnaturally pale at the moment, with more than a hint of stubble, but it worked for him. 

“Um, yeah - so, they’re running some tests and stuff; going back through Erskine’s notes to see about getting you up and around again. I offered to help, being a bit of a genius, but biology isn’t really my thing. I take after Howard - I’m a mechanic, an engineer. I like to tinker. For example, I made my own robot. You guys had robots back then, right? At least in the movies and books and stuff. I mean, didn’t Ming the Merciless have a robot army that he sicced on Flash Gordon? I know Buck Rogers had a robot sidekick... but maybe that was something they added for the TV version.”

“Oh - television is huge now - especially cable television. And wait til you see all the new skyscrapers we’ve got around town - the World Trade Center, Citicorp... and they just finished the CitySpire Center. But there’s familiar faces, too - the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, Rockefeller Center. And of course, Lady Liberty’s still out in the harbor. They just did a huge renovation for her centennial. I bet there’s still a lot of your New York out there, if you go look for it. Maybe I could help.” 

The door suddenly swung open, and Howard Stark strode into the room. “What are you doing here, Tony?” he accused, “I told Miriam and Wilson that I expected round the clock observation. Only qualified personnel should be monitoring Captain Rogers’ recovery.”

“Doctor Jarvis,” Tony replied, stressing her title, “ is taking a short break. She asked me to sit with her patient while she was gone. I have this,” and he held up the walkie-talkie, unobtrusively pressing the Send button, “to contact her in case of any potential emergency.” 

Howard snorted. “And what makes you think you know what an emergency would look like? What do you know about any of this?” 

“I know that the head of the patient’s bed is to be elevated to a thirty-degree angle in order to ward off pneumonia.” Tony replied, keeping his voice steady. “I know that the pulse oximeter reading should be between ninety-five and a hundred. I know that the machines had to be recalibrated to account for the serum’s effects on the patient’s metabolism. I know that once Doctor Jarvis returns, she’ll want to replace the feeding pump bag, as it’s below 250 milliliters. And I know that it’s quite possible that Captain Rogers is listening to every word we say, even if he can’t respond.” And that actually seemed to take Howard aback for a moment. 

“Listen, you smart-mouthed brat,” he growled, but stopped when Miriam walked in. She took after her mother in that she was never intimidated by Howard, and Tony was glad to see her. She had the walkie-talkie in her hand and had obviously overheard their conversation.

“Mr. Stark, since you refuse to hire any additional medical personnel, I had to improvise,” Miriam stated firmly. “I’ve done my time working twelve hour shifts with barely any break and I will not ask that of my colleague, either. Rogers’ condition is stable, at least as best I can tell, and Tony is more than capable of supervising the situation during any brief absences either I or Wilson choose to take.” Howard said nothing in reply. Since Tony had never seen him admit when he was wrong, his father’s silence was the closest thing she would get to an acknowledgement that she was right. 

Miriam continued, insistently pressing her advantage, “I still don’t understand why we didn’t take Rogers to a hospital for detailed brain and body scans. There could be something we’re missing, something that needs to be fixed before --” and then Howard interrupted. 

“I wasn’t the only one searching for the plane, and for him, ” he stated flatly. “There are organizations out there who would -- and have -- killed for a chance to get their hands on anything that might lead to a rediscovery of Erskine’s formula. Dooley wasn’t the unfortunate victim of a hunting accident during last summer’s expedition ... unless the Greenlanders are toting high powered Russian sniper rifles.” 

“And Wilson isn’t just a combat rescue officer,” Howard continued. “He has certain specialized surveillance skills that saved our bacon more than once during this last trip. I haven’t been going out on the ice for the past four decades out of some misplaced sense of personal loyalty. Even if he never wakes up, Captain Rogers is a military asset just like a nuclear missile or a battleship. We can’t afford to let him fall into enemy hands. So until he’s able to defend himself and make his own decisions, he has to be kept under wraps. Nothing I’ve just told you leaves this room. Do I make myself clear?” Miriam nodded stiffly and Tony gritted out a “Yes, sir,” from between his teeth, pushing past his father to head out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony meets Sam Wilson, spends a little more time with Steve, and provides a small personal service. They are joined by someone dear to them both.

As he slammed his bedroom door shut in frustration, Tony hoped that Rogers hadn’t heard Howard’s diatribe. While he’d known for years that his father valued utility over emotion and what someone or something could do over what they were, he imagined it still would suck to hear yourself compared to a battleship or bomb, as just another asset. 

And it was no surprise that Pops didn’t think he was ‘qualified’. Tony might not have a medical degree, but he knew how to do research. He turned on his computer, connected the modem and started combing through the online medical databases he’d looked up at the library that morning for anything related to coma treatments or studies of coma patients. He took notes as he went, ignoring a knock on his door. It clearly wasn’t Howard, as he would simply have barged in. A couple of hours passed before Tony stood back up with a stretch and a groan. He’d have to make another trip to the library. 

But before he turned off the computer, there was one thing more he wanted to do.

>   
>  To: 02jrrhodes@alumni.mit.edu  
>  From:00aestark@alumni.mit.edu
> 
> Have something VERY IMPORTANT (and very top secret) to tell you re: Dad’s summer vacation and a souvenir he brought home. I’m calling your barracks @ 7pm Tuesday - I know you don’t have a social life so you better be there. 
> 
> T  
> 

There was a slip of paper sticking out between the door and the doorjamb. He took it, and read in Miriam’s surprisingly-neat writing: _Wilson is taking over for me at 4. He’ll probably need a meal break around 8pm. Can you help out? PS: Bring another reuben._

Before he went out to the deli, Tony swung by Howard’s workshop to get the microscope Miriam needed. Thankfully, Howard was nowhere around, but as he reached across the table, a couple of papers caught his eye. They looked like part of a larger report, and were written all in what seemed to be German. And while Tony had studied the language for 3 semesters, as there were some important engineering journals coming out of West Germany, he struggled to decipher the writing; as best he could tell, the report described some sort of medical experiment. 

The subject had been exposed to varying levels of radiation and chemical injections as some sort of treatment, and the descriptions of the pain tolerance, and skin and muscle regeneration tests left Tony nauseated. He was disturbed not only by the contents of the pages, but the fact that his father apparently found something worthwhile in what it described. He did his best to push the vivid imagery from his mind and go about his own business. 

About five after eight, Tony knocked, then pushed open the door to Rogers’ room. “Candygram.” 

“Ah - you must be Tony. I’m Sam. Sam Wilson.” Tony hadn’t got a good look at him the other night. He guessed him to be perhaps eight or ten years older than him, and he carried himself like a military man. But Wilson’s smile was genuine as he crossed the room, and the little gap between his front teeth was kind of cute.

“Stark 2.0, at your service,” Tony replied, putting down the deli bag and microscope so they could shake hands. “Doctor Jarvis said you’d probably want to take a little break from CapWatch at this point, and she apparently thinks the entire world appreciates Jewish deli cuisine.”

“She’s not wrong in either case. Thanks, man.” And there was that smile again. “Nothing much new to report about our patient, although you may see some twitching or reflexive movement. It’s somewhat common with coma patients and I’ve seen a few instances over the past few hours.” 

“Great,” Tony groaned. “As if it weren’t marginally creepy enough to have Tall, Blond and Handsome just lie there, now he’s going to be flailing around?” Wilson had raised an eyebrow, at the ‘handsome’ bit, but otherwise said nothing about the slip of the lip, and Tony mentally breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Not much so far, but if Rogers starts moving enough to disturb the sensors or the IV, sound the alarm and I’ll come running. Miriam said there’s another bedroom all made up just down the hall. That’s where I’ll be.” 

“Works for me. Enjoy the sandwich and a nap.” Tony handed over the deli bag, and Wilson clapped him on the shoulder as he left. 

Tony took a quick look around the room, then sat by the bed again, noticing that Rogers’ hands were clenched into tight fists. “Hey... It’s Tony again. So, I guess you heard Howard when he stopped by. I don’t know how he does it, but when Pops gets going, I feel like I’m thirteen years old again. ‘Old enough to make all sorts of trouble, but too young to be worth anything,’ ” Tony intoned in his best imitation of his father. “Yeah, I heard that a lot growing up. I don’t know. I shouldn’t have even bothered coming back here. If I’d listened to Rhodey, I would have checked the papers and had an apartment all set up before I left Boston.” 

“You’d like Rhodey - he’s a military guy too. ROTC all through high school and college, then joined the Air Force. He’s my best friend... pretty much my only friend. I guess Miriam kind of counts, but she’s more like an older sister. Jarvis and Ana - they work for my parents - they adopted Miriam when she was about ten years old. She turned out pretty good, once she got a fresh start.” 

“Maybe that’s what I need -- a fresh start. Go somewhere new, where no one knows me. That’s a little tough, though, being the Stark Industries heir and all. Maybe if I grew a beard or something. Speaking of which, Cap, you’ve got a crop of whiskers going there yourself. Seems almost unpatriotic to have you looking so scruffy.” Or at least out of character, as all the promotional material Tony had ever seen -- even the newsreels supposedly shot out in the field -- showed a clean-shaven Captain. “Wait a minute - I’ll be right back. Don’t flatline while I’m gone, OK?” 

Tony ran back to his room and grabbed his shaving gear. Once he was back in Rogers’ room, he grabbed a towel and wet a couple of washcloths with warm water. “Toldja I’d be right back. I’m going to try to give you a shave. Is that okay?” He found himself waiting for a response. “Um - anyways.... Let me put a warm washcloth on your face to soften up that stubble.” 

Rogers flinched slightly when Tony gently draped the cloth across the lower half of his face. “Oh, sorry. Hope it wasn’t too hot. But maybe it feels good, after being in the ice for so long.” He found he was absent-mindedly half-humming, half singing one of the songs from “The Rabbit of Seville”: “How about a nice close shave/Teach your whiskers to behave/Lots of lather lots of soap/Please hold still don't be a dope.” 

“Oh, we have to do a Warner Brothers cartoon marathon once you’re up and about, Rogers,” Tony continued. “Aunt Peggy said that when you and Barnes got to talking, you guys reminded her of Bugs Bunny.” He paused, wondering just how badly he’d put his foot in his mouth by mentioning her, but then soldiered on. 

“So, yeah - you probably want to know about Peggy Carter. She’s Aunt Peggy to me - no, we’re not actually related, but she came around the house a lot while I was growing up. She’s still fighting the good fight. After the war, she, Howard and Colonel Phillips remade the SSR into a peacetime organization. Well, for certain values of peace, anyways. Pops picked the name: Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. Apparently he really wanted it to spell SHIELD. Okay - how about we start with the lather?” 

And yeah, this was probably a little questionable, putting his hands all over another man’s face. A man who not only really couldn’t consent at this point, but one that Tony’d had such a huge crush on. Or maybe it wasn’t so past tense, he thought. Better just focus on the job at hand. Apply lather and work it in a little. Shave with the grain, then against the grain. Work your way from top to bottom, stretching the skin taut to avoid nicks and cuts. Once he got into a rhythm, Tony felt comfortable enough to start talking again. 

“She got married, eventually. Peggy, I mean. Has a couple of kids older than me. Showed me a picture of her newest grandbaby the last time she visited. Cute tyke. She seems happy..... That’s what’s important, right? I guess it took Howard a while to settle down, even after Peggy set a good example. Maybe he finally figured he needed an heir for his business empire. Anyways, that’s how I got here.”

“As for the rest of the Howlies, well, they all made it home, mostly in one piece. Dernier is missing a finger or two, I think. They’ve had a reunion or two over the years - Howard usually hosts it. Jones and Morita live here on the east coast, so they sometimes stop by with their families.” Tony stopped himself before he started talking about their trip to Washington DC to unveil the Captain America memorial in Arlington cemetery. Yeah, that wouldn’t be macabre at all.... He lapsed into silence as he finished the tricky bits. He was most definitely not staring at Rogers’ ridiculously long eyelashes, or his now-rosy cheeks, or those perfectly curved lips ... 

“Ow! Fuck!” Tony instinctively put his thumb between his lips, then made a face at the taste of the soap and wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve. “Sorry, I got distracted. I think we’re done.” He gently toweled away the last of the lather and was pleased to see no traces of blood, so it was just himself he’d nicked with the razor. He surveyed his handiwork - not bad for someone who’d never shaved someone else before. He kept telling Howard that video games were good for one’s eye-hand coordination. Rogers’ hands were now resting loosely at his sides, and Tony wanted to take heart from that, to think that his ministrations had helped to calm him. 

“Looking good there, Cap... really, really good.” The tone of what he’d just said sunk in. “Um, sorry, yeah, it’s probably a little uncomfortable for you to hear a guy say how hot he thinks you look, right?” Tony stood up and started backing away on instinct “Oh god, I didn’t mean to say that, I really... I swear I am not hitting on you, Rogers. Please don’t beat me into a pulp when you wake up...” and a familiar voice interrupted his babbling, making him jump. 

“Oh, Anthony. Steve would never do that.” Peggy was standing in the doorway, with a indecipherable look on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, dear readers, this is a VERY slow build.... I hope you'll stick around to see if it's worth it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Peggy has a moment with Steve, she and Tony have a little chat. Tony overhears a heated discussion between Peggy and Howard. Both Tony and Steve have difficult mornings.

“Aunt Peggy! What a surprise! I thought you were still in DC!” Tony could feel his face grow hot; how long had she been standing there and how much had she heard? 

“I just got into town and was coming to see your father to discuss his discovery of the Valkyrie. I heard your voice coming from upstairs and thought I’d say hello. I didn’t realize you’d be... here.” And it was if she had to steel herself to look at Rogers. 

“I’m just filling in, letting Miriam take a bit of a break. You know Dad called her in for this, right? She’s taking turns caring for Captain Rogers with Sam Wilson, the medic that was on the expedition. She explained the equipment and told me what to watch for. I’ve got a walkie talkie in case things get a little hairy. And, well, I guess talking to coma patients can assist with their recovery - help relieve anxiety and keep them oriented.” 

“So, they believe Steve’s in some sort of coma? Do they know if ... when... he might regain consciousness?” He knew her well enough to hear the catch in her voice, a hint to the emotions she was keeping in check. 

“Miriam thinks it’s too soon to make a prognosis either way, and Wilson agrees.” His watch alarm beeped, and he reached for the chart. “Time to update his chart with his vitals.” As he jotted down the numbers from the readouts, he came up with a plan. When he was done, he held out the clipboard to her. “Why don’t you read through his chart? That should help get you up to speed, let you see what to discuss with Dad. In the meanwhile,” he gestured to the tray of shaving gear, “I’ll get this cleaned up.” He picked up the tray and headed to the bathroom. 

Tony distracted himself while he waited by sketching out a diagram on the mirror with a piece of soap. He’d been thinking of building a sibling for Dum-E, and had some ideas on how to improve the design. He tried very, very hard not to listen to the quiet murmur coming from the other room. Eventually, there was a soft knock on the bathroom door, and when he opened it, Peggy was standing there, eyes bright. There was a hoarse edge to her voice as she spoke. “Thank you, dear boy.” 

“Of course, Aunt Peggy.” Tony knew he usually didn’t deal well with other people’s emotions, but he was pretty sure he’d made the right call here. But he did want to clarify something, especially before she went to talk to Howard. 

“Please, just ignore what I was saying to Rogers earlier. You know how I am, when I get to blathering on. And that I flirt with anything on two legs, it’s practically a reflex.” Tony gave her one of his most charming smiles.

She gave Tony an appraising look, then walked back over by the window, pulling two chairs close together as she went. She sat in one, then patted the other in invitation. “Steve told us all quite a few stories about the USO show he’d been in,” she said quietly as Tony joined her, “but I believe he shared this one only with me. It was about the other man in the show - the actor that played Hitler.”

“They roomed together, of course, and it turned out that Christopher - that was his name - was a homosexual. Steve and Sergeant Barnes had grown up in a rather progressive neighborhood, apparently, so he knew the signs. And when Christopher made a rather discreet pass, Steve took it as a compliment. I was surprised, but flattered that Steve felt comfortable enough with me to tell me about it, afterward. I suppose he only told me because he knew I wouldn’t judge.”

Tony wasn’t quite sure where Peggy was going with that story, but before he could ask her about it, there was a knock on the door. It was Wilson, returning to finish his shift. 

“Director Carter - good to see you again.” Wilson managed to somehow come to attention while still maintaining the loose, relaxed bearing Tony had observed before.

Aunt Peggy rose to her feet. “That’s Director Emeritus, now. Good to see you as well, Agent Wilson. I’m glad you’re here. This situation needs people with a sense of discretion, which you’ve proved more than once.” Tony was intrigued; he hadn't realized Wilson worked for SHIELD, although it made sense that Howard would call on trusted agents for his expeditionary trips. 

“Thank you, ma’am. Have you been informed you of our treatment plan for Captain Rogers? Do you have any questions?” 

“Yes, I have, and no, not at the moment. If I do, I’ll make sure to contact you or Doctor Jarvis.” She turned back to Tony on her way out the door. “I enjoyed our talk, Tony. Take care and good night.” 

As she closed the door, Wilson asked, “So, which one of you did that?” 

“Did what?” 

Wilson pointed to his patient’s clean-shaven face. “Cleaned up Rogers. I was gonna do it later tonight, but y’all beat me to it.” 

“It was me,” Tony admitted. “With how itchy stubble can be, I thought maybe that was part of what was making him restless.” Yes, that sounded like a reasonable, logical, and not in any way madly infatuated reason.

“Uh-huh,” Wilson responded flatly, giving Tony a searching look. “You did a good job, I’ll give you that.” 

“Thanks? Um, yeah, so I’m going to go now. Need to get some sleep. Growing boy and all that. G'night!” Tony babbled as he headed for the door. 

“Good night, Tony. And thanks for the sandwich!” 

Over the years, Tony had perfected his eavesdropping skills. He knew exactly where to stand outside his father’s study -- hidden in an alcove, but still able to hear quite clearly whatever was being discussed, thanks to an ornate ventilation panel. 

“You do realize that you’re asking far too much of Sam and Miriam,” Peggy was saying. 

“Peggy, we can’t widen the circle. I’m not taking any chances, not now.” Tony could just imagine his father, pacing back and forth like a caged lion, glass of scotch in his hand. “Besides, the serum still seems to be doing its job.” 

“But we can’t be sure of that. Not without more extensive testing, and doctors with more experience, someone like Streiten.”

“More equipment is coming in the morning,” Howard replied dismissively. 

“That’s your answer for everything, isn’t it, Howard? Throwing more money at the problem. Speaking of money, I looked through Steve’s chart - what exactly do you plan to do with the extra blood samples?” Tony had never heard Peggy sound so accusatory, and so cold. 

“The same thing I would have done with the one you sentimentally wasted.” Howard shot back. “I’ll make sure they get into the right hands to do some good. The trick is making sure whose hands are the right ones at the moment.” 

Howard’s voice grew darker as he continued. “There’s been a changing of the guard at SHIELD since we left, Peggy. I’m worried that the organization we founded is going down a shadowy path. The Soviet power structure is crumbling, we’ve seen that for quite some time. Something more dangerous is bound to grow in its place. The Balkans are increasingly unstable, and with Iraq invading Kuwait, the entire Middle East is a powderkeg. We're not ready for all this, despite having good men on our side, like Fury, Wilson and that young Coulson you recommended.” 

“And good women, too,” Peggy added dryly. “Or do I need to remind you how instrumental Agent May was in the defection of that Soviet biologist, Pasechnik?” 

“Who we lost to the Brits, thanks for reminding me.” Tony could just imagine the steely-eyed glare his father was the recipient of, with that thoughtless comment. “Sorry, Peg. But you see my point. The world desperately needs a hero, but we don’t dare risk any word getting out about Captain America until and unless he recovers completely.”

“Howard, you’ve been so focused on Captain America all these years, I wonder if you’ve forgotten about Steve Rogers.” Tony heard the door slam, her quick, firm footsteps coming his direction and pressed himself further into the shadows of the alcove. Fortunately, Peggy seemed too lost in her own thoughts to have noticed him. 

Once his heart rate was back to normal, Tony returned to his room and pulled down a box from the top of his closet. Howard had his collection of Captain America memorabilia stored behind glass in a climate-controlled environment. Tony’s was much more modest and personal: an well-read illustrated biography, reproduction comic books, and a compilation of the wartime promotional films Rogers had starred in. Tony put the VCR tape in the machine and pressed play. He paused the tape multiple times, comparing the heroic presence portrayed on screen with the all-too-still figure just down the hall. Peggy was right; his father had perhaps always thought more of the uniform than the man inside it. A man who his younger self had envisioned as a protector, a defender. It seemed as if their roles were reversed now, at least for a little while. 

The next morning, Tony woke up to the sound of a not-so-distant thud, some sort of impact. He was disoriented and... sticky. The details of the dream burned away like fog in sunlight, but he definitely recalled the lust and desire; vivid flashes of being held by a strong body in a passionate embrace. Above all, there was a feeling of being cherished. And of course, that was the most impossible aspect of the whole dream. That anyone, much less the epitome of everything that was good, and noble and pure, could think of him that way. It felt like there was a hole in his chest; he lay looking up at the ceiling, breath still coming in gasps. 

About an hour later, Tony knocked on the door of Rogers’ suite, a binder full of notes tucked under his arm. He nodded in greeting, presenting Miriam with a freshly toasted bagel and schmear, along with the largest mug of coffee he could find. “Tony darling, you are an angel from heaven and I don’t deserve you.” She’d taken over from Wilson early that morning, and appeared to be in dire need of caffeine and general sustenance. “It’s been a little rough the past few hours,” she sighed. 

Tony then noticed a fist-sized hole in the wall -- that must have been the cause of the sound that woke him up -- and that their patient was restrained, with thick leather bands around his wrists and chest. Still restless, he was twitching and sweaty. Without even thinking about it, Tony went to him. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said in a quiet reassuring tone. “Take it easy, Cap. It’s okay. You’re back in New York now. You’re safe and the docs are doing everything they can to get you back on your feet. I’m right here... Tony. Remember me? I’m the one that’s been talking your ears off.” Steve’s fist was clenched tight again and Tony was unthinkingly stroking his arm and gently tugging at his fingers in an effort to loosen his grip. 

As Steve quieted, Tony got up the courage to look at Miriam. She wore a gentle smile as she slowly shook her head. “No need to say a word, Tony. Let me get a cool washcloth for the Captain.” She returned a minute or so later, and Tony carefully ran the cloth over his forehead and cheeks, around his neck and down his bare arms. He went to put the cloth in the hamper, but Steve’s hand had closed around his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot of fun to write - and @hddnone gave me incredible feedback to whip it into shape and keep it on track. Things are getting a little complicated at the Stark homestead... stay tuned.
> 
> If you're interested in more of Peggy's point of view, go read [ this chapter of the companion fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10444104/chapters/23388192)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard comes through with the EEG machine, and Tony gets to talk science to Steve.

Tony’s heart leapt - was Steve finally coming out of his coma? Was he waking up? But no, his face was still slack and expressionless, and the monitors showed no increase in heart rate or respiration. It was probably just some sort of primitive response, an idle flex of muscle... but a boy could dream, couldn’t he?

“Looks like I might be here awhile, Mirrie.” Tony called out, keeping his voice casual. “Could you please go down to my room, third door on the right, and grab a couple of the paperbacks off my desk?” Tony snagged a nearby chair as she ducked out the door. He took a bit of time to just enjoy the moment -- feeling Steve’s large, warm hand wrapped around his, even though he knew it didn’t mean anything. 

Miriam returned a few moments later with three books. “H.G. Wells, Raymond Chandler and Oliver Sacks? Your tastes are wide-ranging, Tony.” 

“First two for pleasure, the last one as research,” he replied, patting the binder he’d brought with him. “Found out this Sacks guy worked with sleeping sickness patients about fifteen years ago, using a drug called L-dopa and got some pretty miraculous results.” 

Miriam nodded in approval. “I’ve started looking into his work myself. Howard’s been pushing for administering adrenaline shots to try to wake Rogers up, but I’m not convinced that’s the solution. What else have you found out?” 

Tony started to flip through his notes to show her what research he’d started on, when the door opened. It was Howard, pushing a dolly with a complicated-looking piece of equipment. “Finally got the EEG machine you asked for - don’t ask how many strings I had to pull. Hope you know how to use it.” 

“I’ve got some experience, Mr. Stark. And your son is pretty handy when it comes to machinery.” Tony had stood as soon as Howard came in, positioning himself in order to obscure the fact that he and Steve were apparently still holding hands. But his father had spared him only a brief, disdainful look.

“Hmph. Any repeats of this morning’s ... disturbance?” 

“No, sir. Tony was just getting ready to read to the Captain. Research says that speaking directly to coma patients keeps them oriented and in a calmer state. I’m not sure those restraints would hold up to Rogers’ full strength.” 

Howard chuckled darkly. “No, no they would not. Which is why we need to get him awake and aware as soon as possible. I still think adrenaline is the way we need to go.” 

“Once I get these EEG readings, I’ll have a better idea of what’s going on in his brain,” Miriam responded, her jaw set in determination. “We don’t want to provoke seizures, or cause any additional damage.” 

“Fine, you’re the doctor, after all.” Howard replied, holding his hands up in a mocking gesture of surrender. “I’m going out of town on business for the week. I expect some results by the time I get back. As for you, Tony,” he added, “my design team finished their review of your latest gadget. Their report is on my desk in the blue binder. Examine their recommendations and be ready to explain why Stark Industries should dedicate time and money to produce your handiwork. Stane’s going to set up a meeting for you to present to the Board on Thursday.” 

Once Howard was gone, Miriam said, “Congratulations, Tony!” Unlike his father, Miriam actually seemed proud of him. “Sounds like you’ll be pretty busy for the next several days, after all.” 

“I can still help out,” Tony protested, not wanting to let her down; or to be honest, lose the opportunity to spend time with Steve, even in his current condition. “Like Pops says, ‘A Stark always delivers on his promises’.” 

“Well, if you’re sure,” Miriam responded, picking up the equipment manual and handing it to him. “Could you skim through this while I step out for a bit? I remember the basics of how to set it up and get readings, but could use a double-check.” Tony noticed the tightness around her eyes; he knew quite well how difficult it was to live up to Howard Stark’s expectations. Steve’s hand had relaxed enough for Tony to slip out of his grip, so he took the manual from her and started looking it over. 

The engineer in him admired the use of the lobes of the brain -- frontal, temporal, parietal, and occipital -- to provide coordinates for the placement of the electrodes. He was also amused to learn that the dent between his eyes above the bridge of the nose had a name that rhymed with the matching spot at the base of the skull at the back of the head. Nasion and inion - neat. 

He wasn’t sure how many electrodes Miriam was planning on using. The manual recommended a minimum of 16, with the standard being 25; he figured the more, the better. Regardless, it wouldn’t hurt to start prepping. Each electrode site had to be scrubbed with a special cream to reduce the skin impedance. Using the diagram in the manual, Tony got to work. He tried very hard not to be distracted by the feel of Steve’s hair, fine and silky between his fingers. 

He kept up a running commentary, explaining what was going on. “Don’t be worried about the ‘electro’ bit, Cap -- no one’s going to be running 1.21 gigawatts through your head or anything like that. In fact, this machine actually detects the brain’s own electrical signals. I don’t know if they taught that when you were in school, that brain cells communicate via electrical charges. Well, those charges can be sensed by these harmless little electrodes that translate the charges into a waveform, which gets drawn onto a ribbon of paper.” 

“Turns out that certain types of brain activity -- being awake versus asleep, or concentrating on a task, for example -- produce different kinds of waves. And by placing these sensors all over your head, we can see what the different parts of your brain are doing.” Tony stopped himself before he said anything about being able to detect damage, but he knew that was the main purpose of doing the scan.

“Yeah, it probably sounds a bit like mind-reading, but trust me, it’s not that accurate. When I was in college, I participated in an EEG scan as part of my psychology class in college and they didn’t send the nice men in white coats after me, so you’ve got nothing to worry about. The worst part is going to be washing all the goop out of your hair when we’re done. By the way, you have really nice hair, Steve - did anyone ever tell you that?” 

Tony had been so absorbed in his task that he hadn’t heard Miriam return, and jumped a bit when she spoke. “Be careful, Tony.” 

“I’m not playing Frankenstein, I promise - just trying to help by scrubbing up the contact locations for the electrodes.” 

“That’s not quite what I mean,” she replied with a sympathetic tone. “You might be getting your hopes up a little too high. Remember, he comes from a very different time.”

“Am I that obvious, Mirrie?” Tony asked softly, feeling sure if he were hooked up to these machines, all the readings would be spiking. 

“Only to people who know you well... which means your father doesn’t have a clue.” She patted his shoulder as she sat down next to him. He knew she was trying to make a joke, but there was a lot of truth in that statement. Tony thought back to Aunt Peggy’s story -- she hadn’t said whether Steve had actually turned his roommate down or not ... was she trying to give him some sort of hint? Or was that simply a best-case interpretation, something he wanted desperately to be true?

They worked together to affix the electrodes to their patient’s scalp, then connected all the cables to the appropriate ports. The machine added its distinctive hum to the existing medical soundscape as they turned it on. Tony read aloud to Steve for about an hour, just getting to the point where Marlowe takes custody of the blackmail material when Wilson showed up with a pizza. 

“Mr. Stark told me to come in early and get up to speed on the EEG machine. Thought I’d make my presence a little more welcome by bringing food.” 

“You’re always welcome, Sam!” Miriam replied with a smile. It seemed to Tony that the two of them had quickly become friends. Something similar had happened with him and Rhodey when they’d been given what seemed to be an impossible assignment by their physics prof. Close quarters and high pressure can do wonders to bring people together, Tony thought. “Just let me pull this reading,” she added, walking over to the EEG machine. She neatly tore off the already-marked paper, and jotted down the time. “I’m thinking we should compare this reading, when Tony was interacting directly with Rogers, to a baseline reading, with no interaction.” 

Wilson nodded as he set the pizza box down. “Makes sense... I assume you know what all those squiggles mean? The pizza is half cheese, half-pepperoni, by the way.” 

“We went over the basics in class, and I’ve looked over the specialist’s shoulder a few times, but I have an ace up my sleeve. My roommate in DC is in the last couple weeks of her neurology residency. We can fax them over to her, with basic patient info. She won’t be too nosy.” Tony admired Miriam’s end run around his father’s restrictions. “And that pizza smells divine.” Her eyes sparkled a little when she smiled at Wilson, and Tony suspected there might be more than friendship between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter with not a lot going on, but I promise it does move the story forward.  
> I hope to continue the twice-weekly posting schedule, but will be traveling over the holidays with limited internet access. If worst comes to worst, we'll pick back up with these boys the first week of January. 
> 
> Thanks to all of you who have clicked the Kudos button and/or left comments - I feel like Christmas has come early!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve shows additional signs of recovering; while Tony's quick wit comes in handy more than once.

The pizza had been large enough to share between the three of them. Once they were done eating, Miriam left for the evening and Tony picked up where he left off with the Sacks book, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He was busy adding to his notes and had mostly tuned out the outside world when Wilson’s soft, “Hey, Tony,” caught his attention.  He looked up to see Steve was restless again, making small convulsive movements against the straps.  Wilson gave him a little ‘go ahead’ nod and he was up on his feet.

“Whoa, calm down there, Cap.  It’s okay.  We talked about this already.  Howard Stark found the Valkyrie and brought you back here to New York where you’re recovering. You’re surrounded by friends, and the docs are taking good care of you.”   Steve’s face was no longer slack and relaxed; rather his brows were drawn together, but whether in determination or pain, Tony couldn’t tell.  He froze when he realized Steve was actually talking.   Well, it was more like mumbling, barely audible over the sound of the monitors, and Tony leaned in to listen.  

“ four... six...  two... nine.     Rogers.   Steven Grant.   Captain.  Five.... eight... one...”

“Shit.  Wilson - help me get Rogers loose! ”   Tony reached across Steve to fumble at the restraints.

“Uh, Tony.. that’s not such a good idea.  You see that huge dent in the wall, right?”  Wilson responded warily.

“He was reeling off his name, rank and serial number. He thinks he’s being held prisoner.”   As Tony pulled the thick leather through the buckle, Steve’s arm came up and the back of his hand crashed into Tony’s cheekbone, knocking his head back.  Tony blinked away the tears of pain, but kept his voice calm and steady as he continued to speak to Steve.

“It’s okay, Rogers. We’re not the bad guys, I promise.  No nazis or hydra mooks here.  I’m Howard’s son.  Peggy was here to see you yesterday.  We’re not holding you prisoner - you’re free to go as soon as you’re able.  I bet you’re scared and confused.  I would be too.  But we’re here to help, I swear to you.”

Wilson had approached the bed, and was cautiously unfastening the other restraint.  “He was speaking  - like, actual words?”

“Yeah, he was.  But not like a conversation - he didn't respond to anything I said. Maybe it's just something like sleep talking, I don’t know.”

Steve was already settling again, tensed muscles slowly slackening.  “There you go,” Tony reassured Steve.  “Just relax.  Everything’s gonna be okay.   You’ll be back up on your feet before you know it.”    He smoothed back the hair from Steve’s forehead without thinking, startling a bit guiltily when Wilson caught his eye.

“There was definitely something going on,” Wilson said. He had gone over to the EEG machine to check the latest set of readings.  He pointed at a section of the chart where the previously-regular wave forms jittered wildly for a span of a few minutes.    He marked the range with a pen and made a notation: 'Patient agitation - spoken words',  then turned to Tony. “Let me take a look at that.” He reached a hand up to Tony’s face, presumably to check where Steve had accidentally struck him.

“I’m fine, he barely touched me,” Tony replied, flinching away.   “You’re not going to say anything to Howard, are you?”    He knew his father would find some way to blame him for what happened, and probably forbid him from trying to help any further.

“I guess not,”  Wilson replied slowly.   “But why don’t you head off to bed?  It’s getting late.”

“I’m okay.  I’ve got some reading I want to finish up. I’m not tired.”  He wasn’t about to leave Steve’s side, not when he was showing signs of possibly starting to wake up from the coma.  

“If you say so.”   Wilson then busied himself with taking Steve’s vitals, while Tony returned to his book, making himself comfortable in the oversized armchair in one corner of the room.   His eyes were growing a bit heavy, and he considered making a run down to the kitchen for some coffee or some sort of snack.

But then the next sentence connected to something he knew was in his notes somewhere and he flipped back through the pages to try to find it.   Tony read until the words started swimming on the page,  so he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, just for a second.  The next thing Tony knew, it was morning, and he was curled up in the chair, covered by a blanket.  His cheek felt tender, a dull throb pulsing through the whole right side of his face.

“Morning, Tony,”   Miriam said,  handing over a mug of coffee as he sat up blearily.  He mumbled a few syllables that he hoped sounded like “Thank you,” and took a sip. It was strong and sweet, just the way he liked it.   It took most of the cup before he felt human enough for conversation.

“Sorry - I didn’t mean to fall asleep,”  he apologized. “What time is it?”  

“About eight o’clock,” she replied, her hands pressing lightly on his cheek before he could respond. “Hm, I guess it’s not broken.  Sam said Rogers clocked you pretty good.  Was he really speaking coherently?”

“Yes and no - he must’ve thought he’d been captured and was following protocol: name, rank and serial number.  He wasn't responding to anything I said, but Steve calmed right down once I got him loose and started talking to him again.”

She shook her head, clearly displeased with the risk he’d taken. “Well,  apparently he stayed quiet the rest of the night.  It looks as if we got some good baseline readings. I’ve drafted a cover letter to go with the EEG strips.  Would you mind taking these to your father’s study and faxing them over?”  

Tony stood and stretched.  “Probably shouldn’t send them from here - Pops is just paranoid enough to track down what the outgoing message was and who it was sent to.   There’s a copy shop a few blocks down.  I’ll take them over once I get cleaned up.  How’s your former roomie going to get in touch with you?”

“That’s a good question.  I suppose we don’t want to take a chance of Howard answering her call, either. I could put my parents’ number in the letter, but do you have a better idea?”

“I always have a better idea, Mirrie.”  He picked up the extension, and dialed, hearing a muffled ring from down the hall a moment later.   Tony then checked the phone jack in the room.  “I’ll be right back.”    He went down to the basement and switched two wires around, swapping the line from his old bedroom with the line leading to Steve’s room.  “Write in this phone number instead,”  he told Miriam once he returned, giving her his old private number. No one had bothered to turn it off when he moved out,  and it had been easy enough to re-route it.

“An act of subversion worthy of Agent Carter herself,”  Miriam teased.  “Now go get ready - you’ve got a lot to do before Thursday.”

 It was just Tony’s luck that the clerk at the copy shop was both bored and nosy.  When she saw him start to unroll the EEG strips, she asked what they were.    “Seismograph readings,” he replied, the lie coming easily to his lips after years of keeping secrets from his father.  “I’m collaborating with the Geology department at Caltech - developing algorithms that take into account an urban environment.   As you can imagine,  an express subway wreaks hell with your readings.”  

Her eyes glazed over as Tony faked his way through a monologue comparing the average density of concrete to the native bedrock of the greater New York area and how the structural steel footings of skyscrapers could act like tuning forks, causing unwanted harmonic resonances.  He found himself warming to the concept, making a mental note to see if there really was anyone doing this kind of research.  When he got back to the house,   Jarvis met him at the door.

“Good heavens, Anthony, what have you gotten yourself into now?   If Ana sees that shiner - she’ll have you sitting in the kitchen with tonight’s steak pressed to your face.”  It certainly wasn’t the first time either of them had seen him a bit roughed up, usually through his own devices. And despite his British reserve, Tony could tell that Jarvis was concerned.

“It’s okay, J.  Our houseguest got a little wound up in his sleep and I didn’t dodge quickly enough. It looks worse than it feels.”  Probably a little white lie; it was starting to throb again.

 “If you say so,”  Jarvis replied, his clipped response indicating he wasn’t pleased with Tony’s excuse, but wasn’t (for once) going to argue.  “Speaking of whom, Miriam said that Captain Rogers had another episode  while you were out - he was calling out for Bucky.”  

Tony heart sank as he remembered Aunt Peggy’s stories about Sergeant Barnes, Steve’s brother in all but blood.  A skilled sniper with a devil may care smile,  he’d been lost on a mission less than a week before the flight of the Valkyrie. Jarvis’ own expression was distant; he had served in the British Army and Tony was sure he had lost comrades in the war as well.

“Thank you for the update,”  Tony replied, briefly clasping Jarvis’ shoulder.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d physically expressed the regard he had for the man who had been more of a father to him than his own flesh and blood.  Tony had been a very tactile child, and while Howard had done his best to discourage casual touches,  Jarvis had always welcomed a hug from the young master.  “Thank you for .. you know... everything.”

“It is, as always, my pleasure, Anthony.”  Jarvis responded with a fond smile.

Miriam looked up from checking the readouts as Tony entered the room.  “I heard Cap had another episode. Is that a good sign, do you think?”  he asked as he handed her back the charts.  Howard would want to see them, even if he couldn’t interpret them without help.  Tony assumed they’d be filed away in his study to join the rest of the Project Rebirth material.

“It could be.  The EEG machine captured the readings, but we’re out of chart paper now.  I’ll fax what we have over to Liz once I’m off shift.  We might as well get Rogers unhooked, as you’re not supposed to leave the electrodes on for more than 24 hours.  You can help if you like, Tony.  Unfortunately, you missed out on giving him a sponge bath.” 

Tony felt his face turn hot as his pulse raced at the image that had popped into his head.  While Miriam had indirectly acknowledged his interest in Steve earlier, he hadn’t expected her to bring it up again, especially so blatantly. 

“It’s okay,”  Miriam reassured him.  “Whoever you love... women, or men, or men and women...  you’re still my brilliant and annoying little almost-brother.”  She pulled him in for a brief hug.  “Now, start earning your keep.”  


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony works on his presentation and touches base with Rhodey. The presentation goes well, despite Howard's impression, and Obie wants to celebrate.

“Hey, Rogers, it’s me again,” Tony said, as he started to unstick the electrodes from Steve’s scalp. “We’re done with the testing for now.” He grimaced a little at the residue left behind. ”I bet this feels pretty gross, doesn’t it? I remember heading right back to the dorm for a shower after my scans. Since that’s not really an option for you right now, we’re going to use this dry shampoo stuff and see if that helps.” 

Tony followed the directions, spraying it on carefully, letting it sit for a few moments, then started brushing it out. Maybe he just imagined it, but he could have sworn he heard Steve give a small sigh as he smoothed back the hair from his forehead. 

“Sorry I can’t stick around and finish up the novel we were working on, Cap. I’ve got work to do. I’ll check in with you later. Promise.” 

The feedback from the design team was actually pretty good this time around. They finally seemed to get what he was aiming for and he could incorporate some of their ideas into the next iteration. He spread the papers out on the guesthouse dining table, started up his computer and spent the next several hours immersed in his work. He finished his first review, rolling his shoulders as he stood and stretched, finally noticing that the sun was long gone. 

Before logging off, he checked his email to find a note from Rhodey:

>   
>  To: 00aestark@alumni.mit.edu  
>  From: 02jrrhodes@alumni.mit.edu  
> Hot damn - did he finally find it? If so, you owe me $20. I’ll make sure to be back at the barracks in time tomorrow night, even tho it cramps my style.  
> R  
> 

As he hadn’t eaten lunch, or even much of a breakfast, Tony went back to the mansion, entering through the kitchen door. “Hey good lookin’, whatcha got cookin’?” he sang out to Ana who was washing up pots and pans at the sink.

“There’s beef stew on the stove, and fresh bread in the basket.” Tony was careful to keep the bruised side of his face hidden from her while he ate, propping up an elbow and resting his cheek in his hand. Busy with her work, she didn’t complain about his lack of manners. He watched her moving around the kitchen, more deliberately than he remembered from his youth. There was a stepstool in the corner, and when she slid it over in front of the cabinet and picked up a large stack of dishes, he spoke up. 

“I’ll get those in a moment, Ana, just leave them on the table.”

“Such a sweet boy ... it’s nice to have you back home, Tony.” She came around the table and kissed him on the forehead. “You look tired. I’ll make you some hot cocoa to help you sleep.”

Tony protested, as he wanted to make a second pass through the design notes to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Then he had to start designing a presentation for the Board, most of whom had little to no technical background. But Ana was nothing if not persistent, and, after Tony helped her finish putting the kitchen back in order, she plied him not only with cocoa, but a plate of snickerdoodles as well. He asked for a second mug, and took the tray up to see Wilson, after promising Ana he’d go right to bed after checking on their guest.

“I’m gonna have to up my game at the gym if I stay on this job much longer,” Wilson laughed as he took the cookies from Tony. “Rogers, you don’t know what you’re missing over here.” 

“Don’t worry, Cap. Ana’ll bake up a storm for you. Wait til you try her rugelach. You been behaving yourself while I’ve been gone?”

“He’s been restless, but nothing violent. I’ve caught a few snatches of speech, a sentence or two here and there, but nothing that made a lot of sense - mostly names, I think. Who’s Dum Dum?”

Tony started to tell Wilson a little about the Commandos, but was interrupted when Ana came rapping on the door. “Bedtime, boychick.” 

Wilson suppressed a grin as Tony sheepishly responded, “On my way, Ana.”

The next couple of days went by all too quickly. Tony went over both his own design notes and the suggestions from the Stark Industries engineers with a fine toothed comb, making sure he’d accounted for every possible question that his not-so-technically oriented audience might ask. He assembled an hour-long presentation and showed it to Obie Tuesday afternoon.

“I wanted to get you more involved and on your own feet at SI this summer and this is a good start. It’s a shame Howard came back early this year. Did he happen to say why? Good or bad news?” Tony shrugged noncommittally, realizing that his father was keeping a huge secret from his oldest friend and most trusted advisor. Howard was more paranoid than he’d thought. Next thing he knew, there’d be jars of toenail clippings on his father’s desk.

“I barely saw him before he was off again.” Tony replied. “You know how he is.”

“Huh. Well, I bet Howard thought you’d be slacking off, putting things off until the last minute,” Obie continued, flipping through the pages of the presentation. “I told him you could work hard on something that interested you. ” 

Over the last four years in Boston, Tony had gotten used to the luxury of tinkering with a project without his father breathing down his neck, pointing out the mistakes his son was sure to make. Obie’s comment brought that all back to the forefront. Tony hoped things would be different now that he was older and presumably wiser, but he wasn’t going to bet on it. After asking a few questions, Obie held on to the binder and assured Tony that his admin would prepare all the transparencies. 

He kept his word to Miriam and Wilson as well, stepping in for the two of them when they needed a break from minding their patient. But he was distracted, his mind on the impending presentation, and mostly just read to Rogers, not feeling up to the one-sided conversations from before.

Tony also helped Miriam out by being a sounding board as she worked on a write-up of Rogers’ progress for Howard. The first set of EEG chart readings that Miriam’s former roommate, Liz had provided indicated potential areas of damage in the parietal and occipital lobes, but those same areas had returned to normal by the third set of readings. Tony assumed that Miriam hadn’t told Liz that those readings had been taken less than 24 hours apart.

It turned out that the “sleeptalking” episodes were probably good signs of the brain healing itself, almost as if it were testing out the re-established connections. Miriam said that Liz had been hesitant to make any recommendations regarding the use of L-dopa without actually meeting the patient; but, when pressed, admitted the side effects were minor for short-term use and agreed it had the potential of bringing him out of his current comatose state.

“I’ll have Sam read through my final report, Tony. You’ve been a huge help, since you know the kinds of questions your father is likely to ask.” Miriam said, giving him a hug before he left.

As he didn’t care to explain to Howard when the phone bill arrived why he had called someone at Edwards Air Force Base, Tony found a pay phone and used his personal calling card instead.

“Airman First Class James Rhodes.”

“Rhodey - it’s me, Tony.”

“Hey, Tones. Your old man finally found the plane, I take it?”

“Not just the plane. He found Rogers.”

“Oh.” Rhodey’s voice grew somber. “So, Captain America can finally be laid to rest in Arlington.”

“That would be a bit premature, Rhodeybear, and cruel and unusual punishment to boot.” Tony replied, “You see, between the serum and the ice, Rogers was in some sort of suspended animation. He’s alive. Thawed out and unconscious for now, but alive.”

“Holy shit, Tony.”

“That was pretty much my response too. But Pops is dead serious about keeping this all super top secret, and I kinda have to agree with him. I only told you because, well, I had to tell someone, and I know you know when to keep your mouth shut.” Tony had drunkenly confessed his possible bisexuality to Rhodey the night he left for his tour overseas. His friend had taken it in stride, joking that his feelings were hurt that Tony had never made a pass at him. 

“I don’t think anyone would believe me anyways, Tones. But thanks for trusting me with the info. Hey, I’ve put in for a 5 day pass later this month. If I get it, I’ll try to make it into the city, okay?”

“Sounds great. So, how’s southern California treating you?”

“Just as hot and sandy as Afghanistan, but with fewer camels. Your dad being his usual jerk self?” They talked a few minutes more before someone walked up wanting to use the phone. 

“I gotta go, Rhodey. It’s good to hear your voice again.”

“Likewise, Tony. Take care.”

Tony spent most of Wednesday in his father’s workshop, building models of the key components of his design, with Dum-E providing the occasional helping hand. It was a good thing he had, since when Tony arrived at Stark Industries headquarters bright and early Thursday morning, Obie told him that the admin had misplaced the binder that contained the presentation. “I’m so sorry, kid.” Obie leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “She’s normally dependable, but you know how moody and forgetful women can get around ‘that time’.” 

Tony ended up giving the presentation from memory, drawing and writing on the surface of the overhead projector itself, as well as the white boards on the walls of the conference room. But it was the models that really sold the idea, and by the end of the meeting, Tony had the attendees eating out of his hand. Which was a blessing, as his father had shown up about two-thirds of the way through the meeting and his stormy expression showed clearly that he, at least, was less than impressed.

“What the hell was all that scribbling about? I told you to have a presentation ready that would be worth the Board’s time!” Howard barked, pointing an accusing finger right into Tony’s face.

“Cut the kid some slack, Howard,” Obie came up, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “He put a little something together and showed it to me yesterday. It must have gone missing.” He then turned to Tony, putting his other hand on the back of Tony’s neck. “You handled that situation pretty darned well, there. You think quick on your feet, just like your dad.” Tony couldn’t help but glow a little at the praise, and Howard seemed mollified. “Now, let’s go have a little fun.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obie takes Tony and Howard out to celebrate; plans are finally made to wake Steve up.

Tony wasn’t at all surprised that Obie’s idea of “a little fun” involved a high end steakhouse, copious amounts of alcohol and women in various states of undress, pretty much in that order. While dinner had been superb, it was marred slightly by Howard demanding an update on the status of Captain Rogers when Obie stepped away briefly. “As you reminded me before, Dad, I’m not a medical expert. Miriam’s been working on a briefing to get you all caught up, including the results of the EEG readings. I can tell you he’s had a couple of episodes of ... well... sleeptalking is the best analogy, I suppose.” Tony didn’t have time to elaborate and Howard didn’t seem pleased with the minimal information. 

Next up was one of the more exclusive gentlemen’s clubs in the city. Tony had never been able to get into that scene. While he certainly could appreciate the view, he knew perfectly well that any interest the women showed in him was simply because he was a paying customer ... it felt only a step or two up from prostitution. Not that he put any blame on the workers themselves. After all, stripping was just another a service industry job if looked at a certain way. 

He did find the holiday decorations a little distracting, with all the shiny red, white, and blue garland and fiber-optic fireworks. The performer on the mainstage was dancing to “Yankee Rose”, a song he supposed was on every club’s playlist, especially this time of year. Tony admired her creative use of lit sparklers, though he couldn’t help wonder if it violated the local fire codes. 

Once they were seated in the VIP section, Obie ordered flutes of Dom Perignon for a toast to Tony’s successful presentation. Tony dutifully finished the drink, but then discreetly emptied the second and third rounds into the planter next to him. Champagne gave him a hell of a hangover; the scotch they’d had with dinner was much more to his liking. 

Howard left after about an hour, claiming jet lag; but when Tony offered to drive him home, Obie insisted that he stay awhile longer. “Gotta get you a lap dance or two, son!” Tony steeled himself as a buxom blonde wearing stilettos, a g-string and glitter responded to Stane’s summons. And while his body responded to the visual and tactile stimulation -- it was the rule that customers couldn’t touch, but the performers followed no such restrictions -- Tony’s mind was far away. 

The dancer suddenly stopped her grinding, took a closer look at him and said, “Wait a minute... you’re Tony Stark, aren’t you?” He was afraid this was going to happen. Tony plastered on a big smile and said, “Sure am, darling.” 

“Would you sign my costume?” She stood up, shimmied out of the g-string and flattened it out on the table next to them. She called out to a passing waitress, “Hey, lemme borrow your pen!” grabbing the marker that was held out to her.

“Make it out to Tyfffaniee - that’s T-Y-triple F-A-N-I-E-E. Guess what the third F stands for.” She winked and Tony bit his tongue to avoid blurting out “Flibbertigibbet? Floozy? Facile?” Instead, he carefully spelled out her name above his own signature as she added, “I hear you’re in the running for this year’s ‘Most Eligible Bachelor of New York’. If that’s the case, I have a streak I need to keep going. I get off at midnight -- I could be getting you off five to ten minutes later.” 

“I appreciate the offer, gorgeous, but my chaperone,” he gestured to Obie, who was enjoying a lap dance of his own, “has me on a very tight leash at the moment.” 

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” she sing-songed, picking up the g-string and waving it in front of his face. A camera flash went off, and Tony sighed. He was gossip rag fodder once again, it seemed.

“Maybe next time, doll.” He leaned over to get Obie’s attention. “We’ve been tracked down by the paparazzi. We should go or Mom’s gonna have my hide.” Obie swatted the ass of the woman sitting on his lap and, once she was out of the way, stood unsteadily. Tony walked him to the door, where the doorman called for a cab, as Howard had taken the car when he left earlier. Obie was snoring loudly in the backseat before they’d driven a half-dozen blocks; Tony tipped the cabbie $20 to help extricate Obie from the car and deliver him into the incredibly patient arms of his building’s doorman. 

Wilson came into the kitchen the next morning and showed Tony the photo on the front page of the tabloid the next morning, complete with headline that read ‘Stark Naked for Stark Heir’. Tony just shrugged and sipped his coffee. “At least they got my good side.” 

“And hers,” Wilson nodded approvingly. “Or was she good from every angle?” 

“Only got as far as the lap dance, despite an engraved invitation for more. She really wasn’t my type.” 

“I thought you liked them blond and chesty,” Wilson replied with an absolutely straight face. Either he’d been talking to Miriam, or Tony had been even more obvious than he’d thought. Better to let it slide, just in case. Ana placed a plate of pancakes in front of both of them, tsking as she grabbed up the paper. She wadded it up ferociously, tossed it into the refuse bin and spit on it for good measure. “Trash like that isn’t even worth wrapping garbage in. But you should know better, Tony.” 

“I’m sorry, Ana. It was Obie’s idea, not mine.” She made a dismissive ‘feh’ sound with a gesture to match.

“That momzer, I wish Mr. Stark had never met him. He’s a bad influence. You be careful around him, my boy.” 

“Yes, Ana. And thank you for breakfast.” She patted him on the head and returned to her work. 

“Any updates on our Rip Van Winkle?” Tony asked Wilson, trying to change the subject. “Sorry I didn’t check in last night, but between the miasma of cheap perfume and cigarette smoke following me around, I wasn’t fit for decent company.” 

“S’ok - I was able to catch a few winks here and there, it was another quiet night. Mr. Stark stopped by about ten o’clock - Miriam had the report on Rogers all ready to go, so I just handed it over. I imagine he’ll want to talk to her this morning.” 

“Yes, yes, I will,” Howard said as he walked into the kitchen. “Just coffee for me, Ana, if you please. Wilson, I want you and Miriam to join me in Rogers’ room this evening, after I get back from SI. I think it’s time we put together a plan to bring the Captain around. It will have to be quick, as I’m expecting guests for dinner at 19:00.” 

Tony slipped into Steve’s room around quarter after five that afternoon. “Hey, Cap, it’s Tony. Sorry I haven’t been around a lot lately. I’ve been busy on a project - working on a missile guidance system. I kicked butt with my presentation and should know soon if the board approves taking it to the prototype phase. This is the biggest piece of tech I’ve designed for SI so far, Howard’s only given me little fiddly bits to tinker with up til now.”

“Speaking of Howard, he seems to think you’ve rested enough and expects Mirrie to wave a magic wand or something to wake you up. Or maybe go more traditional with a kiss.” 

“Not a half-bad idea, Tony. I just might give it a try. Or would that be moving in on your territory?” Miriam said, wiping her hands dry as she left the bathroom. 

“Not funny, Mirrie.” Tony sighed. She just wasn't going to let it go, was she? “That part of the fairy tale always kinda creeped me out. When I was little, it was the kissing part that was gross, but now that I’m older, it just seems a little date-rapey.” 

“You have a point. I withdraw the suggestion,” she replied. Of course now that she’d put the idea in his head, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to kiss Steve. Once he was awake, of course, and only if he were to demonstrate the least bit of interest (fat chance) Tony was dying to know if his eyes really were as blue as they looked in the all-too-few color publicity photos of Captain America that he’d seen. It certainly wasn’t the kind of thing he could ask Howard, if he’d even noticed. And while Aunt Peggy just might understand why he would ask, Tony was afraid it would be a little too painful for her, even now. 

“Oh, I almost forgot, happy belated birthday. Pops thought that was all part of the Captain America legend at first, you being born on the Fourth of July and all. Phillips finally dug out your file to prove it. You’re looking awful good for 73 - good luck convincing the waitresses that you deserve a senior discount. Biologically, I guess you’re, what, 25? 26? Not too much older than I am, really. Admittedly, you have a hell of a lot more life experience... but I have the advantage of being native to this space-time continuum. Don’t worry, I’ll help you deal with culture shock -- already started a list of movies you need to see, and music you need to listen to.”

“You are NOT subjecting him to Black Sabbath, Tony,” Miriam interjected. “I believe that would be against the Geneva Conventions.” 

“Give me a little credit, Mirrie. You have to work up to musical genius like that. Nah - we’ll start with a little Elvis and some Beatles first.”

“How about Motown?” Wilson added from the open door. “A little Marvin Gaye does a body good, I don’t care who you are.” The three of them threw out music suggestions until Howard showed up. 

“Working on cultural assimilation ideas for Rogers? Start with someone he knows - Sinatra. But we’re not here to chat about music.” He turned to Miriam. “Everything you’ve indicated in the report you put together tells me our patient is healthy as a horse. So, what’s your plan for getting him up and around again?” 

“From the research I’ve done, L-dopa looks to be our best bet,” Miriam stated. When Howard looked at her blankly, she continued. “ It’s a chemical that’s naturally produced by the body, and is converted into neurotransmitters that work together in the central nervous system to promote alertness and memory retrieval, as well as motor control. It’s been used successfully in treating sleeping sickness, which Rogers’ current condition resembles. I think L-dopa will provide an easier transition to full consciousness for Captain Rogers than your previous suggestion of straight adrenaline injections. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a supply of liquid Lodosyn, which arrived today. We’ll be administering it via IV with a standard dosage. We can increase that if he doesn’t seem to be responding.” 

Howard nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds as if you’ve done your homework. Good job. Let’s get started bright and early tomorrow morning.” He glanced over to Tony, who had tried to fade into the background during the medical discussion. “Tony, get dressed for dinner - we have a guest you need to meet. Plan to be downstairs in an hour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so, so close to an up & at 'em Steve! Many thanks for all your patience - I know this has been a painfully slow build. Hopefully you're enjoying the ride, because there's lots more on the way.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obediah brings the Undersecretary of Defense over to the Stark Mansion for dinner. The following morning, Miriam and Wilson successfully bring Steve out of his coma. He talks to Howard and is introduced to Tony.

Tony judged a button-down shirt, tie and blazer to be appropriate attire for the evening. He’d chosen correctly, as his father, Obie, and their guest were similarly dressed. The three of them were enjoying a pre-dinner cocktail when Tony joined them; Maria had apparently begged off, probably claiming to have a headache.

“Undersecretary Pierce, I’d like you to meet my son, Tony. Tony, this is Alexander Pierce. He’s with the Department of Defense. I’ve been telling him a little about the guidance system you’ve been working on and he’s quite interested.” They shook hands, Pierce with an extra-firm grip. But Tony gave as good as he got -- turning wrenches as a hobby had its benefits. Pierce gave him a brief nod as he ended the shake. 

“Howard says your new design has no moving parts and is resistant to vibrations, accelerations and shocks. Sounds pretty damn impressive.” Pierce commented, as Jarvis handed Tony a scotch on the rocks.

“And pretty damn expensive,” Obie added, “what with all the grinding and polishing of the hemispheres - it’s a long way from production. Tony just presented the proposal to the board yesterday and there will be a lot of discussion before deciding to take it to the prototype phase.” He took a sip of his martini. “By the way, Howard, is everything alright with Maria? I heard you had some medical equipment delivered the other day and it got me a little concerned -- I meant to ask you earlier.” 

“She’s fine,” Howard snapped, finishing off his scotch in one swallow. The room went silent, so Tony jumped in, making up a story as he went. “Those were for my next project, Obie. You know how I’m always tinkering with something. I got to thinking about Moore’s Law: how the number of transistors in a dense integrated circuit doubles approximately every two years. Well, based on that, I’m looking at taking existing medical and diagnostic equipment and see if there’s a way to shrink down their circuit boards. Maybe even combine some of the functionality. Make them more portable - something that medics on the front lines could use in the field, or EMTs have available in ambulances.” 

“That is a fascinating idea, Tony,” Pierce said approvingly. “I can see that your company is going to be in good hands, Howard. May I propose a toast? To Stark Industries, boldly moving forward into the next millennium!”

The dinner went well, with Tony playing the role of observer as Howard and Obie subtly pumped Pierce for information about upcoming defense contracts. But Pierce was a master of deflection, providing only bits and pieces, and not committing to anything; a consummate politician. There was something about Pierce that Tony didn’t care for, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. They retired to Howard’s study after dinner, lighting up cigars and discussing the general state of the world. Pierce finally left around eleven o’clock, and Tony took the opportunity to excuse himself as well. 

Tony made an effort to get up early, as he wasn’t sure when his father wanted to get the ball rolling. Two large cups of coffee and one of Ana’s excellent cinnamon rolls later, he felt alert enough to head up to Steve’s room. Tucking himself into a corner, he watched Wilson remove Steve’s feeding tube as Miriam prepared the IV infusion. 

When Howard arrived, Miriam was ready for him. “Mr. Stark, we’re going to do things my way this morning. Sam and I will be the first to interact with Rogers if and when he’s awake and alert. You are going to sit there,” and she pointed to a chair near the door, out of Steve’s sight, “and not say a word until you’re called on to do so. Do I make myself clear?” She looked Howard right in the eyes with a fierce gaze; he blinked first. 

“Yes ma’am,” he replied with a tight smile and a tinge of sarcasm. He sat down, leaned back in the chair and gestured for her to continue. Ignoring him, Miriam turned to Wilson. “I think we’re ready. Let’s start the infusion.” After a few minutes, Steve’s chest started to rise and fall more deeply than before. Tony held his breath, waiting for any sign of impending wakefulness. He noted small movements, restlessness that was somehow different, more purposeful than before. Steve tossed his head a few times, then with a gasp and a start, his eyes flew open. He weakly rubbed at his face, then seemed to focus on the two figures standing next to the bed. 

“Welcome back, Captain Rogers. My name is Miriam. Doctor Miriam Jarvis. This is Sam Wilson. We have been supervising your recovery. What’s the last thing you remember?” She spoke calmly and slowly, as if dealing with a wild animal, or a frightened child.

“The V... Valkyrie,” Steve responded hesitantly, voice hoarse from disuse. “Schmidt ... a glowing blue cube. Bombs in the plane. It was headed right for the east coast. I ... I couldn’t let that happen.” 

“You didn’t,” she reassured him. “Your selfless act helped win the war. Howard Stark went looking for the crash site and brought you here to recover.” Howard started to stand, and Miriam sternly signaled him to stay right where he was. 

“Where exactly is ‘here’?” Steve asked, a note of suspicion in his voice. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around, examining his surroundings. Howard had suggested making over the room to look like a war-era recovery ward, but neither Miriam nor Wilson had thought it wise to try to deceive their patient. 

“New York City.” Wilson said, his bearing deceptively casual; Tony suspected if Steve were going to start reacting physically, he would be ready. “Stark’s home, to be precise. He didn’t want word to get out about you until we knew you were going to be alright.” 

“He always did play his cards close to his chest,” Steve replied. “Wait, you said the war was over... how long was I out?” Tony noticed how closely Steve was scrutinizing them, taking in their clothing and hairstyles, which were surely quite different from what he was used to. He made brief eye contact with Tony, who quickly ducked his head. 

Wilson glanced at Miriam, who nodded, then he replied, “It’s been awhile, Captain. Today is Saturday, July 6th.” 

“What year?” Steve sat all the way up, posture suddenly tense. Tony wondered for a moment if he were going to spring out of bed and... who knew, maybe run out into the street. 

“1991.” 

Steve turned pale and huffed out a breath, as if he’d been socked in the stomach. “My god.” He dropped his head to his chest, hands gripping the sides of the bed tightly. “I don’t understand... how?” 

“Our best guess is a combination of the serum and the extreme cold put you into some sort of stasis, or hibernation.” Wilson explained. “Stark only found you about two weeks ago, after years of searching. You started healing as soon as we brought you up to body temperature. As best we can tell, you’re pretty much as good as new.” 

Miriam added, “Mr. Stark is here now, if you’d like to talk to him.” Steve nodded, and Howard approached the bed. 

“It’s good to see you, Rogers,” he said, a little stiffly. 

“I suppose I should thank you, Howard,” Steve replied in the same manner.

“It was the least I could do. I only wish it had been sooner. Much sooner.” They were both silent a moment. 

“Do you know...if Peggy....” Steve asked hesitantly. 

“She’s done quite well for herself. Stayed on with the SSR after the war, and helped convert it to a peacetime organization. Colonel Phillips and I were involved as well. It’s called SHIELD now, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. In fact, Peggy took over when Phillips died, and was the Director until she retired just last year.” Howard paused. “She’s been married going on forty years now to a fine man - they’ve got a son and a daughter, and a couple grandchildren. The youngest just turned two, I believe. They live in D.C, but she knows you’re here. If you want, Rogers, I can tell Peggy you’d like to see her.” 

There was something akin to kindness in Howard’s response, and that took Tony by surprise. Aunt Peggy had said that Steve Rogers was a man who brought out the best in others, and this was quite an example. 

“I’d appreciate that, but maybe... maybe not just yet,” Steve softly replied, eyes downcast. 

“I understand. Well, I’ll leave you in the capable hands of the good doctors. Let me know if you need anything. Miriam, Wilson - you know how to reach me.” Tony heard a strain in his father’s voice, as if things weren’t going quite as he’d expected. It was an experience Tony would think Howard would be familiar with, seeing as he’d thrown monkey wrenches into his father’s plans pretty much his entire life. 

Once Howard left, Miriam said, “There’s someone else we’d like you to meet, Captain Rogers.” She motioned to Tony, and he joined her at Steve’s bedside. “This is Tony Stark. Howard’s son. He got me up to speed on Project Rebirth, assisted with other research and filled in when Sam or I needed to take a break. He’s been a great help - we wouldn’t have been nearly as successful without him.” 

Tony knew he was blushing, but whether it was because of Miriam’s praise or because, by god, Steve’s eyes were even bluer than he’d ever imagined, he couldn’t be sure. “Uh - hi. I really didn’t do a whole lot. I just got Miriam pointed the right way and talked to you a little, just in case you could hear us and wondered what was going on. And I read a couple of books out loud.” 

“Huh - I thought that was just a dream, or maybe a memory. Growing up, Bucky used to read to me, when I was sick.” Grief washed across Steve’s face. “Sorry - you probably don’t even know who that is.” 

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, ” Tony replied, sitting in a chair next to the bed. “Your childhood pal turned member of the Howling Commandos. Aunt Peggy told me a little about him, and then there were the comic books.” 

“Bucky hates... hated.. those things. Complained that they made him into a goddamned sidekick. Sorry for the language, ma’am.” Steve apologized to Miriam, who was rearranging the equipment and powering down the items they wouldn’t be needing any longer. “Uh, is there any way I can...” and he gestured towards the bathroom. 

“Certainly,” Miriam responded. “Tony, would you go see if Ana has any chicken broth? And maybe some juice. We’ll start with liquids and go from there.” 

Tony ran down to the kitchen and made the request. Ana fixed two large mugs of hot broth, one plain and one with crumbled matzo. He took them both, along with a large bottle of apple juice back upstairs. By the time he returned, Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking exhausted from the short walk. He still had the IV in, but was otherwise disentangled from the monitoring equipment that had surrounded him for the last two weeks. Steve was also wearing a distractingly tight pair of scrub pants, and an equally form-fitting t-shirt, both probably borrowed from Wilson. Tony tried very hard not to stare. 

“Hot chicken broth, good for everything that ails you.” He handed over the plain mug. “And here’s some apple juice, too.” 

“Thanks, Tony,” and the small, grateful smile Steve gave him hit Tony hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know - it's about damn time! Now to start the slow burn Stony brewing...  
> Many thanks, as always, to my beta reader @hddnone for her excellent suggestions and cheerreading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony have a bit of a chat; then Captain Rogers charms Maria with an art discussion. Tony struggles with the reality of Steve's presence as he helps bring him up to speed in the modern world, then takes him to meet Dum-E.

Steve drank the broth in a few careful swallows, and looked longingly at the second mug, which Miriam had picked up and was wrapping in a towel to keep it warm. “Let’s make sure that’s going to stay down first, Captain.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied meekly. 

“How are you feeling, besides ravenous?” 

“I’m cold, my joints ache, and I can’t quite take a full breath. I feel a bit like I did before the serum, to be honest. I’d like to lie back down, please.” 

“Certainly.” She arranged the IV line so it wasn’t kinked and helped with the blankets. Miriam gave Tony a meaningful look, then glanced at the H.G. Wells novel on the side table. 

“Uh - would you like me to read to you for a bit?” He held up the book for Steve to see. “We can start over, I don’t mind.”

“Sure - that’s the one where the guy travels into the future, and falls in love with a gorgeous brunette, right? Bucky ate stuff like that up.” 

“Yeah, that’s the one - she’s a blonde in the movie. Definitely need to put that film on my list of stuff to show you sometime. War of the Worlds too. Did you catch the Orson Wells broadcast version of that in, when was it, ‘38?” 

“Yeah... and it sounded darned realistic, too.” Steve’s expression turned melancholic for a moment. 

“It holds up even today,” Tony agreed. “I’ve got a recording, maybe we can listen to it later. But let’s return to the adventures of our unnamed time traveler...” He read for about twenty minutes, then Miriam interrupted, saying that Steve could have the juice and the second mug of broth if he wanted. He polished the both of those off, and as Tony continued reading, slipped off to sleep. 

“All things considered, I think that went pretty well,” Miriam said quietly. “Nicely done, Tony.” 

“Thanks... so, now what?” 

She shook her head. “Besides get our patient back on his feet? I have no idea. I can’t imagine he’ll be willing to stay cooped up in this house for very long, once he’s well. And I have a feeling that, whatever your father’s agenda is, Rogers may not be as cooperative as Howard might like. I seem to remember that Aunt Peggy made mention of stubbornness being one of his most salient traits, and that the two of them didn’t always see eye to eye.” 

Tony nodded in agreement. “Could make for some fireworks.” 

Maria stopped by after lunch to greet her guest and Tony was pleased to see she was on her best behaviour. She shook her head over Steve’s makeshift outfit, insisting that she'd have proper clothing sent to the house in time for dinner. In the meanwhile, would Captain Rogers like a tour? Tony tagged along, and watched Steve inadvertently charm his mother to pieces. Apparently he could talk to women as long as they were at least twice his age. 

Steve was duly impressed by Maria’s taste in artwork, praising her Maxfield Parrish original painting in the drawing room and the Mucha lithographs in the front hallway. They discussed the Art Nouveau movement for the better part of the tour. Tony was more of an Art Deco man, himself, and had trouble staying focused on the conversation. 

After the tour, Steve had a little more to eat then took another nap. Tony sympathized, knowing how exhausting his mother could be. He retreated to the guest house to do a bit of tinkering but came back to the house for dinner. Steve was standing in the main hallway, looking discombobulated, but quite handsome in a dark blue button down and khakis, presumably something Maria had selected. 

“Uh, I think I got a little turned around,” Steve said, sounding mildly embarrassed. “I thought Wilson said to go down the stairs and turn left to go to the dining room, but that doesn’t seem like the way we went earlier.” 

“Mom took you the long way round,” Tony explained. “This is the shortcut.” 

Howard was working late, and both Miriam and Wilson had left for the day, so it was just the three of them. Ana had prepared a roast along with several side dishes; and while Steve was clearly trying to be a good guest, it was obvious that he wanted seconds, and possibly thirds of everything. Maria, being a gracious hostess, encouraged him to help himself, and soon the serving dishes were empty. 

When Ana brought out dessert, Steve heaped compliments on her cooking. “Ma’am - I haven’t eaten this well since I sat down at Mama Barnes’ table. The Starks are lucky to have such a talented cook.” Ana shrugged off the compliment, but made sure to cut an extra-large slice of apple pie for him. Offering to help clear the table and wash dishes was just icing on the cake; Steve had won Ana over completely by that point. 

They had continued to talk art throughout the meal with Maria being delighted to learn that not only had Steve associated with artists like Ida York Ableman and Elizabeth Olds, but he’d done some uncredited work for the WPA himself.

"We'll have to go to the Archives in DC someday and see if they have anything you worked on, Captain Rogers." 

"You've got a couple of sketches at the Smithsonian," Tony chipped in.

Steve scoffed. "Pull the other leg, Tony. Let me guess, they're part of a 'famous people and their dabblings' dog and pony show."

"Actually, they're part of an exhibit showing how soldiers spent their downtime during the war. There’s sketches, carvings in wood and soap, and even some knicknacks made from C-ration cans. You’re not even credited; they’re listed as ‘by an American soldier’; Aunt Peggy thought you’d want it that way." 

Steve got a distant look, and asked, “Have you seen them? Do you remember what they were?” 

“There was a page of caricatures of the Commandos -- I recognized Dum Dum right off the bat. A sketch of a village, maybe French or Italian. Soldiers ghosting through a forest -- that one was my favorite. They might have some more, but those are the ones on display. I think Peggy kept a few as well.” 

“I guess the rest of my stuff got sent back to the Barnes’, seeing as I had Bucky’s ma listed as my next of kin. Wonder if any of his sisters are still around.” 

Maria reached over to pat Steve’s hand. “I’ll see what I can find out, dear. In the meanwhile, let’s look at getting you up to speed on the current goings-on of the world.” 

Tony knew that when his mother embarked on a project, it was best to just go along with whatever she said. She recruited the three of them to put together lists of Things Captain Rogers Needs to Know. Tony and Wilson got tasked with pop culture and history respectively, while Miriam would deal with the more delicate social and cultural mores. Maria would review their summaries and add touches of her own. 

Tony discovered that it was easier to bury himself in a half century’s worth of happenings and summarize it than it was to take those summaries and actually share them with Steve. Besides feeling as if they were drowning the poor guy in facts and figures, Tony wasn’t sure how to interact with him now that he was awake. After all, Captain Rogers was a decorated veteran of World War II, and had grown up during the Great Depression. He had a lot more in common with Howard and Jarvis than he did Tony. 

But he was also a man not much older than him, a man who was going to have to start his life over in the last decade of the twentieth century, which was a very different environment than what he’d been accustomed to. Steve would be looking for friendship, a career and quite probably someone to spend the rest of his life with. 

With that in mind, Tony suddenly felt self-conscious and unsure during their interactions. Not from anything Steve had said or done, of course not, it was just the rather obvious realization that the object of his infatuation was a real person after all. It was easy to imagine adventures -- amorous and otherwise -- with someone you never expected to meet. On the other hand, it could be quite embarrassing to be friendly with someone you’d fantasized about getting naked with. 

And so their next several meetings had felt a little awkward to Tony. It didn’t help that Steve was downright handsy at times. He should have noticed that personality quirk, given the countless number of times he’d watched the newsreel footage, but Steve did things like shaking hands every time they met -- and it wasn’t just a handshake, it was a firm, manly clasp combined with his other hand on your arm or shoulder. 

Steve might tap on Tony’s hand or gently poke him in the arm if he wanted to interrupt or ask a question about the material they were reviewing. If they were watching TV or a movie, and Tony made the mistake of sitting next to Steve, he’d practically end up with a bruised shoulder from all the fidgeting. Maybe it was just fifty years of sensory deprivation all coming out at once, but combined with that smile that got just a little broader each day ... it wasn’t doing Tony’s overactive imagination any good. 

Spending more time at SI and putting his apartment search into full swing gave Tony other things to focus on. Obie had set him up with a real estate agent and they worked through his lists of wants and needs. She promised to have a list of prospects for him within a few days. In the meanwhile, Tony tried to keep some sort of emotional distance. Even though he’d had been invited multiple times to call Steve by his given name, it was just easier to say “Cap” or “Rogers”. Tony also often waited until Steve was already talking to someone else before joining in a conversation. 

But he still had moments of weakness, where no matter what it was doing to his heart, he sought Steve out, just to hear his voice or see his smile. After an afternoon of talking about the technological innovations of the last half-century, Tony he invited Steve down to his workshop one afternoon to meet Dum-E.

“You named your robot Dummy?” Steve asked, a bit of confusion in his voice.

“I may not have been completely sober at at the time. It’s supposed to stand for Digital Mechanical Entity - DME. Stick a schwa in the middle and it becomes Dum-E.” As they stepped inside, Tony flicked on the lights. Dum-E was at his charging station, in standby mode. 

“Dum-E,” Tony said, and the ‘bot raised his camera and microphone array. “Hello”. Dum-E lifted his claw, waved it side to side, and beeped. Steve laughed delightedly. 

“Dum-E responds to voice commands, but you have to say his name first. You try.” 

“Dum-E, hello,” Steve said, and the ‘bot turned towards his voice and waved. “How come he didn’t beep?” 

“The beep is to indicate that he knows who I am - that I’m a registered user with access to his entire command set. Let me introduce you. After I say ‘New User Setup’ - say your full name and another sentence or two to give him a good sample of your voice. At the moment, he’s only capable of voice recognition, but I’m working on visual identification as well.” 

“Okay....” Steve was shaking his head in wonder. 

“Dum-E. New user setup.” 

“Steven Grant Rogers. It’s nice to meet you, Dum-E. I’ve never talked to a robot before. Your creator, Tony... he’s pretty amazing, isn’t he?” Dum-E beeped to indicate that he had registered a new user, but it almost sounded as if he agreed with Steve. 

“You’re now the fourth user in Dum-E’s database. You, me, Rhodey and Jarvis.” 

“What about Howard?” 

“Well, I did set him up as a user when I was running a previous iteration of Dum-E’s operating system, but since Pops doesn’t think much of this silly hobby of mine, when I upgraded the OS, that particular subroutine went bye-bye.” 

“Your father has changed a lot since I last worked with him.” Steve replied, rolling a washer around between his fingers and staring at it as if it held the secrets to the universe. 

“I suppose forty-some years of trying to bend the world to your will does that to a man.” 

“Did he ever get that flying car of his working?” Steve asked, clearly trying to change the subject. 

“Oh, that is a sore subject, Rogers. Don’t ever bring it up. Howard tried again at the ‘74 Stark Expo and it failed even more spectacularly. Nearly burned down the entire stage. I hope all his research didn’t go up in smoke too, since I’d kinda like to take a look at the design of those repulsors sometime.” 

“Huh - that’s a shame. So, what else can Dum-E do?” Steve asked, as he wandered around the workshop.

“He’s a good assistant. He can hold items in place and fetch tools - they’re all marked with a barcode. As long as I don’t move something out of place, he knows where everything is. Dum-E, bring me a flathead screwdriver.” Dum-E wheeled over to the workbench, scanned it, then picked up the requested tool and brought it to Tony. “Dum-E, thank you.” 

Steve smiled. “You say ‘thank you’ to your robot?”

“That’s how he knows I’m done with the request. Besides, it’s just polite,” Tony replied. “We’re working on color recognition at the moment. Dum-E - bring me something red.” The ‘bot looked around, then trundled over to the stack of shop rags. He picked one up and rolled back over to Tony. “Dum-E, thank you. Your turn, Cap.” 

With an oddly mischievous look, Steve called out, “Dum-E, bring me something black.” Dum-E looked around, then rolled toward Tony, reaching a claw out to the AC/DC t-shirt he was wearing. 

“Oh, no, you are not tearing my shirt off, you rust-bucket.” Tony let the ‘bot grab the hem of the shirt and followed him over to Steve. 

“Dum-E, thank you.” Steve said, looking quite pleased with himself about something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this longish chapter is a bit of a reward for making y'all wait so long for Steve to wake up. The bad news (or good news, if that's your thing) is that there's a lot of pining to go before these two idiots realize their feelings are requited. Stay tuned for more hi-jinks...


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey comes for a visit and meets Steve. The three of them and Wilson go out for the evening. The next morning, Rhodey figures out Tony's crush and commiserates. Steve and Peggy reconcile offscreen; she gives him a heads up as to Howard's intentions, which don't exactly match Steve's aspirations. In a late night conversation, Tony and Steve learn a little more about each other.

“Rhodey!” Tony practically threw himself at his best friend as he walked through the door of the guest house. He returned the embrace wholeheartedly; it had been the better part of six months since they’d last seen each other. He’d have to catch a flight back to California in the morning, but they had made plans to hang out together until then.

“So, Howard brought you back to the fold, I see. Everything going okay?” Rhodey’s serious look belied his light tone. 

“Yeah, it actually is,” Tony replied. “I’ve got a project just waiting for the SI Board’s approval to go to prototype. Gave my presentation just the other day and it went pretty well. Plus I’ve got a realtor looking for an apartment, so that will get me a further measure of freedom.”

“Sounds good, Tones.” There was a knock on the door, and Steve stuck his head in. 

“Hey, Tony, I just wanted to ... oh... sorry, didn’t realize you had company.” 

“No, that’s okay. C’mon in. Rhodey, this is Steve Rogers. He’s an... associate of Howard’s.” Since Rhodey wasn’t supposed to know who Steve was, Tony opted to play it safe, hoping his pal would get the hint and follow along. “Rogers, this is Airman James Rhodes, my best friend and all around good guy.” Rhodey had frozen for a moment, but at a slight nudge from Tony, reached out to shake hands with Steve. 

“A flyboy, eh? Where you stationed?” 

“Southern California, Edwards. I’m back east for a few days to visit my folks and thought I’d check in on Tony. He tends to get in trouble when I’m not around.” 

“Is that so?” Steve chuckled. “So, how long have you two known each other?” 

“Oh, going on five or six years, I guess. I got saddled with this punk kid as a roommate at M.I.T. and it just went downhill from there.” The grin on Rhodey’s face showed he was just yanking Tony’s chain per usual, so he responded in kind. 

“Aw, c’mon - you were an old stick in the mud before I came into your life. Nose in a book day and night. I made your college years worth remembering!” 

“My nose was always in a book because some of us actually had to study to pass our classes. And I’m not sure I want to remember everything you got us into, Tony. I’m never going to be able to eat calamari again, that’s for sure.” 

“Speaking of calamari, how about we go grab something to eat? Let me see if Wilson or Miriam want to join us.” Miriam declined, but Wilson was up for it, so the four of them went around the corner to one of Tony’s favorite haunts. While they agreed in principle with Howard’s desire to keep Steve’s identity concealed, they didn’t think a quick dinner out in company would be an issue; it was more important to start acclimating their charge to the modern world as soon as possible. 

The pub was a bit busy that evening, so only booth seating was available. Tony slid in first, expecting Rhodey to follow, but instead Steve sat beside him. Rhodey ended up across from them both, with Wilson joining him. Tony had taken care of the introductions on the way over, and wasn’t surprised to see the two of them hitting it off.

“So, you and Rhodes are pretty close?” Steve asked Tony, while Wilson and Rhodey were deep in a ‘can you top this’ story exchange.

“Yeah. You see, I was only fifteen when I went to college. And not even a very mature fifteen, socially or emotionally. Rhodey took me under his wing, so to speak. I was kind of a jerk sometimes... maybe even a lot of the time. I don’t know why he put up with me.” 

“I think I do,” Steve said softly, but before Tony could ask him to elaborate, the waitress had come to take their order. The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant camaraderie, ending with Rhodey crashing on the guest room sofa and leaving early the next morning. 

“Well, pal,” Rhodey said as he was packing his bag, “Looks like I’m leaving you in good hands.” 

“Huh?” With only a single cup of coffee in his system, Tony wasn’t quite following. 

“Rogers seems to have taken a shine to you.” Tony fought down a blush, but Rhodey knew him too well. “Oh man, do you have a thing for him? Not that I blame you - even this straight boy can see how fine he is.” 

At Tony’s sheepish grin and deeper blush, Rhodey stared. “It’s not just ‘a thing’, is it, Tones?” When Tony shook his head, not quite able to verbalize the depth of his ridiculous, unfounded feelings for a guy he barely knew and had no chance with, Rhodey pulled him into a hug.

“Jumping in with both feet just like always, aren’tcha, kiddo?” He let go and ruffled Tony’s hair. Stay in touch and let me know how it goes.”

Tony was in meetings at SI the day that Aunt Peggy came by to see Steve. Jarvis said they spent the afternoon out in the garden, talking together, and by the time he rang for tea, they seemed to have sorted things out. But Steve was quiet the rest of the evening, and Tony tried to give him the space he seemed to need. They were watching television when Steve finally said, “She’s got a good life, doesn’t she?” The look of quiet resignation in his eyes made Tony reach out to clasp Steve’s shoulder in commiseration. 

“Peggy asked about my plans, what I wanted to do next,” Steve continued, as he sat back and looked up at the ceiling. “She said Howard is bound and determined to bring back Captain America from the dead and that he’s already reaching out to some of his old buddies at SHIELD to see where I might do the most good. But Tony, I don’t think that’s who I am any more, who I want to be.”

Tony’s heart went out to Steve. He’d been through so much, and for Howard to expect him to pick his shield back up and continue fighting for a country that he barely even knew anymore? Well, that was Dear Old Dad to a tee; making plans for other people regardless of their own wishes. He’d dealt with that enough in his own life; to see Howard treat a peer of his that way was even worse. “Seems to me like you’ve already done your part, and then some,” Tony observed. “Captain America is a hero, no doubt about that, but you’re more than that uniform. What would Steve Rogers do, given a second chance?” 

There was a wistful look on Steve’s face as he replied, “It would be nice to just pick up where my life left off back in ‘43; working odd jobs to make ends meet and taking a few art classes here and there. Maybe meet someone special and try to make a life together. That would be enough.” 

Such a simple request, from someone who deserved so much more. Tony made a silent vow that he would do whatever he could to make that happen, to help Steve find a woman worthy of his affection. Despite his own feelings, Tony could be satisfied knowing that his friend had finally found happiness. 

Tony knew should have just gone back to the guest house after the taxi dropped him off. It had been yet another fundraising gala, this time at the Guggenheim, and he was exhausted from an evening of being in the spotlight. But there was a light on in the kitchen, and his inebriated brain suddenly decided that he had the munchies. He came through the backdoor to discover Steve, assembling a massive sandwich. 

“Channeling your inner Dagwood there, Rogers? Thought it would be past your bedtime.” 

“Couldn’t sleep,” came the curt answer, and on closer inspection, Tony noticed dark circles under Steve’s eyes. He’d come a long way in the last couple of weeks, but it was obvious his mind wasn’t healing as quickly as his body had. Steve had been especially quiet after reading about Vietnam; Tony had referred him to Wilson when he started asking questions, hoping that their common military experience would provide a point of reference. Tony wouldn’t be surprised if those briefings had dredged up bad memories for Steve and possibly nightmares. Howard really needed to add a shrink to the inner circle. 

“I’d recommend a couple of shots of scotch, but I understand it doesn’t do much for you anymore.” 

“Not really. Dance with any pretty ladies tonight?” 

“None to speak of. The crowd skewed a little old for my tastes tonight.” The extra energy he’d had to put into being charming around people he had nothing in common with had taken its toll, and, after raiding the cookie jar, Tony sank down into a kitchen chair.

“So, you’re saying they were more my speed?” Steve replied. His sense of humor had taken Tony by surprise at first. They’d bonded over their appreciation of the Marx brothers -- even if Steve insisted that Duck Soup was their best film, when it was clear that A Night at the Opera was the pinnacle of their career. Regardless, the clever wordplay combined with simple slapstick reduced them both to tears of laughter. But Steve could come up with some zingers on his own, and with such a dry delivery, Tony had done a double-take more than once. 

“You’d have fit right in, at least until they started complaining about their lumbago, and their ungrateful children and grandchildren.” 

“I never liked those events either - gladhanding folks to try to shake cash out of their pockets. Especially when they thought their money bought them a little something extra.” Steve added, rolling his eyes a little.

“You mean you were patriotically pimped out, Cap? That women paid good money for a chance to have the Star Spangled Man give them an up close and personal salute?” Tony asked in mock horror. 

“Kinda felt that way sometimes.” Steve’s blush was much more gratifying than it should have been, making a shiver run up Tony’s spine. 

“Bet that made your roommate jealous.” The comment slipped out before he had a chance to think it through. 

Steve responded, voice low and wary, “What do you mean, Tony?” 

“The girls! Your co-stars! The girls in the show!” Tony backpedaled. “Didn’t they call first dibs on your All-American manliness?” Steve looked relieved as he shook his head. 

“Nah, they took pity on me when they saw how flustered I’d get during the meet and greets after the show. Kind of adopted me as a big brother.” 

“So, you never... with any of them?” Tony made vague gestures. Huh, he’d always figured that was a prime opportunity for Steve to have gotten some experience with the fairer sex. And there was that blush again. 

“Not that it’s any of your damn business, but no, not really.” Well, there was some food for thought. And since Steve had reluctantly shared a bit of personal info, Tony thought he should do the same. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, I lost my virginity at fifteen to a woman who was actually much more interested in corporate espionage than my hot young body. Or so I discovered after the fact. More fool her; I didn’t know as much about SI as she had been told.” Seeing Steve’s shocked expression, he added, “To be fair, the seduction was a lot more fun than being kidnapped.” 

“Jesus, Tony... you’ve been kidnapped?” 

“Just the once... well, twice, but I got myself loose before they could make any demands, so that one barely counts. Obediah managed to keep it out of the papers both times, no big deal.” Tony stretched and yawned. “But what will be a big deal is if I can’t drag my ass out of bed sometime before noon tomorrow, since Pops invited me to a business lunch with some bigwigs. G’night, Cap.” 

Tony stood, but a combination of a spinning head and his feet choosing to tangle themselves with the legs of the chair left him precariously off balance. He fully expected to make a painful, face-first connection with the kitchen floor, but instead found strong hands catching and supporting him, lifting him back to his feet. 

“Watch it there, Tony. You’re worse off than you think.” Steve’s voice was soft in his ear, and set off all sorts of alarm bells. Tony twisted away from the steadying touch before his body could betray him. 

“Thanks, but I’ve made this trip in even lousier shape, trust me.” And he would have been just fine if he’d remembered the half-step down between the kitchen and the mud room. At least he got his arms up in time so that they collided with the wall first. Then Steve was there again, wrapping one arm around Tony, hand tucked firmly against his hip. 

“Nice try, champ. Let me feel useful around here for once, wouldja?” Tony was too tired to argue with him, not when he’d phrased his offer of assistance as a request. And if he leaned into Steve just a little more than was strictly necessary as they crossed the moonlit grounds, no one need be the wiser.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has an unexpected ally to help him deal with his hangover. A boring business lunch leads to Tony pitching a potential business opportunity, to which Howard reluctantly agrees.. Tony inadvertently overhears a heated discussion between Howard and Steve.

Tony awoke in his own bed, still dressed in his shirt and pants. There was a large glass of water on the nightstand, and a bottle of aspirin. He vaguely remembered the events of the previous night; Steve must have have set this up for him, knowing what shape he’d be in. Tony shook a few pills out into his hand and drained the glass to wash them down. He checked the clock -- it was about quarter after nine in the morning, so he had a little time to pull himself together before having to be Mr. Businessman ... or at least a reasonable facsimile. 

Tony did not expect to see Steve standing at the counter of the kitchenette, putting slices of bread in the toaster; he wondered for a moment if he were still dreaming. “Good morning, Tony,” Steve greeted him, “I would’ve made coffee, but couldn’t find the percolator. I can go see if Ana has any ready.” No, if he were dreaming, there would already be coffee. 

Regardless, Tony was definitely not up for a conversation at the moment. So he shook his head and shuffled over to the coffee machine. Muscle memory got him through adding the grounds to the basket, and he held out the carafe wordlessly to Steve, who thankfully caught on quick. 

“How much water?” he asked, squinting at the markings.

“Full.” Single syllables were all he could manage at the moment, but Steve got the jist. He filled the container and, when Tony pointed at the reservoir, poured it in. Tony pressed the button, then retreated to the sofa to wait. He noticed the cushions were a little awry, but the afghan had been neatly folded and placed over the back of the sofa. He looked askance at Steve.

“Yeah, I kinda... stayed the night here.” Tony raised an eyebrow, and Steve continued. “No, I wasn’t trying to babysit you. It’s just.... It’s awfully quiet over there.” 

He had a point, Tony realized. Neither Miriam nor Wilson were staying at the house any more. They were still keeping an eye on Steve’s continued recovery, but Miriam had renewed her job search, while Wilson was enjoying another week or so of free time before returning to SHIELD. Tony had a sneaking suspicion that the two of them were spending their newly-discovered leisure hours together. As it was, their absence left that part of the house pretty empty, especially for a soldier used to shared tents and Army barracks. So Tony shrugged and made what was intended as a grunt of acknowledgement. 

He didn’t wait for a full cup of coffee to accumulate in the carafe before he snatched it off the warming plate and poured it into a mug already prepped with several spoons of sugar. He stirred frantically, then took as large of a slug as he could handle of the scalding-hot brew. There was a snort of laughter, and Tony looked up to see Steve slowly shaking his head. 

“What?” he rasped. 

“I was just thinking that Bucky would have arm-wrestled you for that first cup... and I’m not sure he would have won.” Steve hadn’t talked much about him; Tony guessed the loss was still too raw, too new. But he also didn’t seem to want sympathy at the moment, so Tony played it cool. 

“Not a morning person, either, I take it. Thank you for the water and aspirin, by the way.” 

“Something else I learned from living with Buck. Figured you’d need it after last night’s bender. You said you had a lunch meeting today?” 

“Yeah, me and Howard and some suppliers, I think. It’s going to be a snoozefest. Listen, don’t go watching _Return of the Jedi_ without me, okay? I know _Empire_ ended on a hell of a cliffhanger, but I gotta be there when you see Leia’s copper bikini for the first time.”

“Her what?” 

“Trust me.”

The business lunch was just as boring as he’d suspected. However, Tony learned an interesting tidbit: that their main rival, Hammer Enterprises, was responding to a Department of Defense solicitation for remote controlled robotic exploratory units. Tony had met Justin Hammer a few times at various technology conferences and wasn’t impressed. That little Caltech punk thought he was God’s gift to engineering; he could talk the talk, but his designs were crap. 

As soon as they were back in the SI limo, Tony started in on his pitch. 

“Dad, we need to get in on that RFP right now. You’ve seen Dum-E, just think of what we can do with the current technology. I swear I can come up with a design that is cheaper, quicker to build and all around better than any piece of junk Hammer could come up with. Now that my guidance system is in prototype, I’ve got time on my hands. I can do this!”

Howard’s expression was skeptical. “You think you’re ready to take on a project that size, Tony? All by yourself?” 

“Well, not by myself, I suppose not. But a small team to start with -- an assistant, a part-time admin. Maybe an intern. I’m not asking you to throw tons of money my way, not unless we win the bid. Just give me your blessing. No, not even your blessing, just a little free rein.” 

Howard was silent for the next two blocks; an eternity in New York traffic. But he appeared to actually be giving the request some thought . 

“Fine. You get a bare bones office setup, an open req, one intern and 25% of an admin’s time. I expect to see a draft proposal by the end of August at the latest. If it’s a standard DoD RFP, it closes at the end of their fiscal year. That gives you a little over two months to pull this off. Don’t disappoint me, Tony.” 

Tony stopped by Obie’s office to share the news. Howard had said he’d reach out to Pierce to get a copy of the Request For Proposals documentation, but otherwise offered no other support. Obie, on the other hand, told Tony just who to contact within SI to provide some of the boilerplate information to include in his response: corporate history, financial support documentation, and customer references. 

“It’s basically just hoops we have to go through to make sure everything’s on the up and up,” Obie said. “It’s not like the boys at the Pentagon don’t know exactly what they’ll get when they work with us.” He also passed along some resumes that he’d been reviewing for potential SI hires. “I’ve met with a few of these kids. Maybe you’ll find a diamond in the rough.” 

Tony spent the afternoon working up a basic strategy, taking the thoughts he’d had for a second robot and simplifying them. Voice control could still be an option, but remote control via frequencies that the military was already using seemed a better approach. He debated on a single vs double arm design; either way a camera would be a requirement. Gotta be able to see where we’re going and what we’re doing, after all. Also have to check and see what kind of juice he could get out of the latest generation of nickel–metal hydride batteries. Dum-E still ran on Ni-cads, so he wasn’t a good reference point. Tony would have to upgrade his ‘bot’s power pack here sometime soon. 

Most of Tony’s reference books were still packed up, so he thought he’d see what Howard had handy on the shelves of his study. Tony rounded the hallway corner, pulling up short when he heard Steve’s voice. He sounded upset. 

“Howard, I was a soldier. Not a spy, not an assassin. I can’t do this.” 

“Nonsense. You and the Commandos had dozens of covert missions. And I know you’ve had blood on your hands before.” Howard’s dismissiveness was all too familiar to Tony.

“The Commandos were men I knew. I trusted them to have my back and do the right thing. This Strike team you want to send me out with - they’re nameless, faceless strangers.” 

“Identities are on a need to know basis - what part of covert are you not getting, Rogers?” 

“Not to mention, Stark,” and Tony recognized the resistance in Steve’s tone, “It was war. We were working under orders from our superiors.”

“There isn’t time to go through the proper channels - there’s a limited opportunity for a surgical strike. Besides, if the operation fails, the government needs plausible deniability.” 

“So you’re asking me at a moment’s notice to take a group of men I don’t know into a foreign country with no backup to murder a democratically elected leader.” Steve’s voice rumbled dangerously, and the hair on the back of Tony’s neck prickled. 

“A man elected by a bunch of ignorant peasants as the puppet of a Soviet regime. Trust me, Rogers. This is for the sake of the greater good. I can run this by Carter and get her okay. Would that ease your mind?” That had to be a bluff; Tony couldn’t imagine Aunt Peggy sanctioning something like this. 

“That’s not fair, Howard.” 

“All’s fair in love and war, son, or have you forgotten?” 

“Don’t call me son!”

“Then be a man and do your duty to your country!” Tony flinched away from his father’s raised voice. 

“Any duty I owed my country was paid in full when I flew the Valkyrie into the ice.” Steve replied with steely calm. “I gave my last full measure of devotion that day, and I was content.”

“You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me, Rogers.” Howard raged.

“I didn’t ask you to come and find me.” Steve shot back. “You think you created a shield, Howard. But all I see is a sword. A sword you’re wielding to keep Stark Industries profitable and your colleagues in power. I’m done with all this.” The door to the study flew open and Steve strode out, eyes fixed forward. A few steps took him through the front door and he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!! I have been wanting to share this chapter with you all for WEEKS! Tony’s taking on new challenges and Howard proves he’s not just a jerk to Tony. Things are about to get interesting for our two boys. Post a comment or come say hi on [ Tumblr](http://polizwrites.tumblr.com/) and tell me what you think is coming next.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tracks Steve down and takes his side. He comes up with a plan, which Steve promptly throws a wrench into.

Tony hesitated only a moment before following, ignoring his father’s shout. He nearly lost Steve anyways, barely spotting a flash of broad shoulders and blond hair turning the corner. 

“Rogers, wait up!” Tony yelled, with no success. It took another block and a half before he saw him again. He was standing at a bus stop, hands in pockets as if he were looking for change. “Steve!” Tony called out, slowing his headlong run. 

Steve’s head shot up, looking at first shocked, then concerned. “Tony? What are you doing here?” 

“Eavesdropping is one of my many vices,” Tony replied, still catching his breath. “I caught part of the discussion you and my father were having.”

“And?” Steve’s response was guarded, eyes flicking back the way they had come as if expecting pursuit.

“And I don’t know what the hell he’s thinking,” Tony replied forcefully. “You’re not his pet soldier to boss around, and the world is not Howard Stark’s chessboard. He has no right!” The more Tony thought about it, the angrier he got.

“So what do I do?” Steve said, a note of defeat in his voice. He turned out his pockets. “Not even a nickel for bus fare.” Tony didn’t have the heart to remind him that bus fare was a lot more than a nickel these days. 

“First off, we’re getting a drink.” He took Steve’s arm and led him to a bar down the block. He ordered two double scotches, on the rocks.

“You remember booze doesn’t do anything for me, right?” Steve looked at Tony skeptically. 

“Yeah, but it’s helping me,” Tony replied, taking a deep swallow. “And it gives you an excuse to sit here awhile. Give me about twenty minutes, and I’ll be back.” 

Tony retraced his steps to the mansion, sneaking up the back stairs to collect some clothes from Steve’s room. He then went to the guest house to grab some spare cash. There was the security deposit from the Boston apartment, and he could swing by an ATM and pull out another hundred or so, just in case. Donning the loud aloha shirt and baseball cap he wore when he wanted to blend in with the tourist crowd, Tony returned to the bar. 

Steve was being chatted up by one of the other patrons. Based on her body language, she was coming on strong. Steve looked uncomfortable; Tony couldn’t tell if he were being too much of a gentleman to tell her to back off, or if he still didn’t know how to talk to pretty women. 

“Back off, chickie-babe, this hunk’s all mine,” Tony snapped at her, then turned to Steve, “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s blow this pop stand.” Steve followed without batting an eye. Once they were back on the street, Tony babbled out an apology, hoping his blush wasn’t visible under the streetlights. 

“Sorry, I have no idea what came over me. I didn’t mean anything by it ... you should know by now the kind of nonsense that comes out of my mouth sometimes.” 

“Well, it was effective, I’ll give you that.” But instead of being angry or offended, Steve just looked vaguely amused. “So, what’s your plan?” 

“Getting you a hotel room for the night - I assume you don’t want to go back to the house?” At Steve’s grim shake of the head, they walked a few blocks until Tony found a suitable possibility. He asked the clerk if they had any available rooms. Thankfully, she showed no sign of recognizing him; simply quoting a rate. Tony subtly kicked Steve in the shin before he could protest. He signed the sheet with his normal illegible scrawl and took the key. “C’mon, Cap.” 

The room was on the fourth floor at the end of the hall. It was small, but seemed clean enough. Tony handed over the duffel bag, and scribbled the guest house phone number on a notepad on the desk. “Here’s some of your stuff. Call me in the morning and we’ll figure something out from there. Howard will probably have cooled down and I can always bring down the wrath of Aunt Peggy to help put him in check. Things are going to be okay.” 

“Don’t go.” Steve’s reply was so quiet that Tony wasn’t even sure he’d heard him correctly. He looked back, questioningly. 

“Tony, my whole world has been turned upside down. There’s not a damn soul in this city that I know, that I trust.... except for you. Please stay.” 

It was a bad idea. A terrible idea. But how could he possibly say no? “Alright. Just let me make a phone call.” He dialed his mother’s number, hoping she wouldn’t pick up. Thank god for small miracles, he got the machine. “Hi, Mom. Tell Dad I’ve got Rogers. He’s fine and I’m fine, but we’re not coming back to the house. I’ll talk to Dad tomorrow. Love you.” 

He turned away from the phone to see Steve taking a pillow and the bedspread from the bed. “Whatcha doin’, Cap?” 

“Figured since I asked you to stay, you could have the bed. I’ll sack out on the floor.” 

“Oh no, Rogers. My mother raised me to respect my elders. Besides, I’m used to falling asleep in weird places. I’ll curl up in the chair and be fine.” 

Steve looked at him, then at the bed. “You know, I think we’d both fit, if you don’t mind sharing.” Yes, this had been a terrible, terrible idea. 

“If you insist.” Tony tried to stave off the inevitable by ordering in pizza and watching TV, but all too soon, Steve was nearly cracking his jaw with his yawns, and Tony’s eyelids were entirely too heavy. “Ready to call it a night, Cap?” 

“Mm-hmm” and with that reply, Steve got up and started to unbutton his shirt. Tony clenched his jaw and resolutely faced the wall as he stripped to his t-shirt and briefs. He slid under the covers, eyes firmly shut, and felt the mattress dip as Steve joined him, laying on top of the blankets. 

“Good night, Tony... and thanks.” Steve’s voice was warm and soft, and Tony longed to wrap himself up in it. Solving quadratic equations and differential functions in his head as a distraction, he eventually dropped off to sleep. 

Tony slowly came awake to the smell of coffee and cinnamon rolls. The room was unacceptably bright, and he rolled over to bury his face in the pillows. Instead, he nearly fell out of the bed, as he’d been lying right on the edge. Flailing to regain his balance, Tony heard a soft chuckle, followed by “Good morning, sleepyhead.” 

So it hadn’t been a dream. He had actually spent the night in the same room, in the same bed as Steve Too-Damn-Hot Rogers... who had apparently gotten up early and made a breakfast run. Tony resisted the urge to burrow further under the blankets and escape the high likelihood that he’d do something embarrassing. Instead he sat up, blinking and bleary-eyed. 

“Here’s your coffee - four sugars and I grabbed some extra packets, just in case.” Steve said with an enigmatic smile as he held out a paper cup. “There’s a cinnamon roll with your name on it over on the table. I had to take some money out of your wallet to pay for them. Hope you don’t mind. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can, promise. ” 

Tony made a dismissive wave and took the cup. After a careful sip, he deemed it perfectly sweetened. “Thanks.”

“Least I could do, after you put a roof over my head. Although I do have to ask about this...” Steve said, looking a little bemused as he handed something over. Good lord, he’d found Tony’s Captain America Fan Club card. 

For the country’s bicentennial celebration, the Smithsonian had mounted a Captain America exhibit, with Howard loaning them a good portion of his collection. The museum had given out replicas of vintage membership cards, complete with a full color illustration of Cap himself telling the boys and girls of America to buy War Stamps. As a six-year old, Tony had carefully written out his full name on the blank line in unsteady block letters. Rhodey had gotten it laminated a several years ago; Tony had stuck it in his wallet absent-mindedly and there it had stayed. 

As Tony explained the story behind that bit of cardboard, Steve turned it over in his hands, a disbelieving smile hovering around his lips. “So, people still remember, after all these years.” 

“Of course. Maybe not everyone realizes that you were a real person, but Captain America still means something. I’ll be the first to admit that Howard went about it all wrong, but if you wanted, you could still do a lot of good without ever stepping foot on a battlefield again.”

Steve heaved a sigh. “It’s been a lot to deal with. And your father hasn’t made it easy.” 

“It’s something he’s known for, trust me.” The little laugh that Steve gave in reply made Tony’s heart skip a beat. “Pass me that cinnamon roll, would you?” he asked.

“Here ya go. I’m going to get cleaned up.” And without any warning, Steve stripped off his t-shirt as he walked across the room. Tony nearly choked on his coffee as his cheeks flushed hot. He ate quickly, the better to focus on ridding himself of an involuntary physical reaction to seeing that expanse of well-muscled back and shoulders. When Steve came back out, hair damp and clad in only a towel, Tony fled to the bathroom and took a long, cold shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this a bit early for everyone who's had a difficult day. 
> 
> This chapter has some of my favorite Tony lines in the fic so far - plus I can now mark "bed sharing" off my Tropes bingo card.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony returns home to confront his father, which goes about as well as you'd expect. In a bit of good news, Tony has an appointment to go see an apartment and Steve tags along. After clarifying a minor misunderstanding, they catch a double-billing of Hitchcock films. Tony realizes that sitting alone in the dark with Steve is not such a good idea.

When faced with the option of going commando after his shower, Tony grimaced and slipped his briefs back on before donning his jeans. At least he had a cleanish shirt. As he left the bathroom, Steve said, “I was starting to wonder if you had drowned in...” his voice trailing off as he stopped and stared. 

“What?” Tony self-consciously swiped at his face. He hadn’t shaved, but really only needed to every few days. Maybe there was a smear of toothpaste... 

“Uh... nothing.” Steve turned away to tidy up the pizza box and breakfast leavings. Tony grabbed the aloha shirt and buttoned it up, then put his shoes on. 

“I’d better go beard the lion in his den. I assume you’re not coming with?” 

Steve shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to do my part, Tony, but I can’t fight battles that I don’t understand and don’t believe in. Maybe if I’d lived through the past half-century I’d feel differently. I’m sorry.” He looked devastated, and it tore Tony up. 

“No need to apologize to me, Steve. I’m with you; what Howard asked was beyond the pale. I can’t see how any ends could justify those means. But then again I’m just a mechanic: things either work or they don’t - no shades of grey. Walk with me, there’s a branch of the library on our way. You can hang out there or something.” 

As he approached the house, Tony realized this was going to be rather anticlimactic if Howard were, say, at the office. But Jarvis confirmed that Sir was indeed at home. Tony squared his shoulders as he stood in front of the study door. If a scrawny Private Rogers could throw himself on a grenade, he could certainly do this. 

“Where is he?” his father barked as soon as Tony entered the room. Obviously his mother had passed the message along. 

“Steve told you he was done - he’s not coming back.” 

“Tony - don’t get involved in something that doesn’t concern you.” 

“The hell it doesn’t concern me - he's my friend. I can’t believe you would ask a man who was torn away from everything he knew and loved to go fight a battle he knows nothing about. No, not even a battle. You asked him to kill a man in cold blood.” 

“Anthony Edward Stark, you have no idea what’s at stake here. Captain America could make a real difference. He could help shape the century.” 

“He already has. Steve Rogers gave his life for his country. And you had the hubris to pull him back and ask him to do it all again.” 

“How dare you! I made that man who he is - he owes me.”

“Bullshit. You know as well as I do that what made him Captain America was his mind and his heart, not his body. The muscles were just what finally made people pay attention to him. And it’s just like you to take all the credit, isn’t it? Conveniently forgetting all about Erskine, the man who was murdered the day Captain America was born. Steve doesn’t owe you a damn thing.” 

He thought he’d struck a nerve there, as Howard had blanched slightly at the mention of Erskine. Tony took a breath, trying desperately to keep years of anger and resentment out of his voice. This wasn’t about him, this was about Steve. “And how dare you bring Aunt Peggy’s name into this?” he continued. “Talk about hitting a man when he’s down. If she knew what you’d done, she’d be absolutely furious!” 

“I bloody well am,” Peggy said, stalking into the room and throwing a folder on the desk. “I’ve been in touch with the Director and he’s in the process of dismantling the strike team as we speak.” She was nearly incandescent in her anger. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Howard - your knack for doing the wrong thing at the right time very nearly got us into a war.” 

As he backed out of the room, Tony glanced back at his father, who suddenly looked every day of his nearly seventy-four years. Peggy’s words rang in his ears as Tony closed the door. He wondered how much of that knack he himself had inherited. But he’d said his piece and would accept whatever the fallout was. 

Tony checked the answering machine as he packed up some things from the guest house and discovered some welcome news. He called back to confirm, and before he left, he went to find Jarvis. “Would you keep an eye on Dum-E for me? He’s charging in the guest house - you can leave him in standby mode. I’ll be back for him and the rest of my stuff hopefully in the next couple days. And please tell Miriam thank you for everything and I wish her well.”

“Tony, what’s going on?” Jarvis’ gentle tone of concern as he noted the duffle bags was almost too much, but Tony kept his composure. 

“Let’s just say that today was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Instead of letting Dad throw me out on my ear, I’m leaving on my own two feet.” 

“Ah. Well, you know you’re always welcome to visit Ana and myself. Please stay in touch.” 

“Of course. Thank you, Edwin.” 

He found Steve up on the second floor of the library leafing idly through a magazine, his attention obviously elsewhere. “Hey, Cap. I’m back, and mostly in one piece.” Steve’s brows leapt in concern. 

“Howard better not have...” His hands balled in fists as he replied. 

“Relax, I was speaking metaphorically - although I probably burned a bridge or two. The good news is the realtor I’ve been working with has an apartment she wants me to come see. Wanna tag along?” 

The address was across the river in Brooklyn, and not too far from Steve’s old stomping grounds. It was a top floor corner unit in an old building that was in the final stages of renovation. Two bedrooms, an eat-in kitchen and a bathroom just large enough to swing a cat in, but only if it was a reasonably patient cat and didn’t mind a few nasty cracks about the head. Steve fell in love with the large north facing windows in the living area, while Tony preferred the western view, which provided glimpses of the Manhattan skyline. 

Best of all, there was a storage area in the basement he could dedicate to a workshop, and the electrical system for the building seemed robust enough for at least small scale experiments. After giving the place a good looking over, Tony decided to move forward. The realtor expected that it would be available by the end of the week, once the inspectors had finished signing off on all the changes. 

Steve blanched when she quoted the rent, only mildly mollified to learn that it included all utilities, the current furnishings, and a parking space in a nearby garage. Tony thought it comparable to what he and Rhodey had been paying in Boston and was ready with his checkbook to put down the first month and last month’s rent as deposit. 

“Will your partner be on the lease?” the realtor asked, shuffling through the paperwork. “If so, I’ll need to see some identification.” 

“Uh, no,” Tony spluttered, “he’s just a friend.” He hoped desperately that Steve hadn’t overheard; and if he had, that he didn’t understand the current meaning of ‘partner’. Tony had no idea what, if anything, Steve had been told about modern attitudes towards gender and sexuality. He sure as hell hadn’t had that discussion with him. It didn’t take long to get the paperwork done, and Tony suggested they look for somewhere in the area to have lunch. 

There was a diner down the block that looked promising, and as they slid into a booth, Steve asked quietly, “Did the real estate lady think you and I were stepping out together?” 

So he had caught on. “Well, if by ‘stepping out’, you mean romantically involved and living together... apparently so.” Tony waited for some sign of anger or disgust from Steve, but instead he seemed only a little taken aback. 

“And that’s... okay?” he asked carefully. 

“Well, not in everybody’s eyes - there’s always going to be bigoted assholes. But it’s not illegal any more, if that’s what you mean.” Tony watched Steve closely as he continued. “Aunt Peggy said you grew up in a pretty um... diverse neighborhood...” 

“Yeah, I guess so. Our neighbors were a couple of confirmed bachelors who were completely devoted to each other. You learned pretty quickly not to look too closely into the nooks and crannies along Third Avenue ... unless that’s what you were out for.” Huh - the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. 

The waitress brought them menus, and by the time they’d put in their orders, Tony had steered the conversation back to safer topics. Several hamburger platters later, they headed back out to the street. A few blocks down, Tony spotted an arthouse cinema and was delighted to find they were featuring two Hitchcock classics back to back: _North by Northwest_ and _Rear Window_. 

“I think our afternoon is booked, Cap. Betcha you’re gonna love these films!” Tony purchased the largest popcorn on sale at the concession counter and they went in to find seats. Before the movie started, Steve mentioned that he’d seen one or two of Hitchcock’s early films and that Bucky had aspired to be Cary Grant.

“Even tried to sound like him, but Buck had a tin ear for accents. You should have heard him trying to speak French ... poor Dernier would stuff his fingers in his ears.” 

They had the balcony to themselves, and Tony found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the film once it started, instead observing Steve from the corner of his eye. His companion was captivated by the story of mistaken identity; an innocent man pursued by shadowy figures. Steve watched with bated breath and shining eyes as Grant threw himself to the ground to avoid the plane, actually gripping Tony’s knee during the harrowing chase across Mount Rushmore. 

There was a ten minute intermission between the films, and Tony took the opportunity to try to pull himself together, splashing water on his face in the bathroom. Sitting so close to Steve, the two of them alone in the dark ... it was tearing what little composure he had to shreds. He went back into the theater just as the opening credits for _Rear Window_ started rolling. He sat down one seat away from Steve, who glanced over with a confused, almost hurt look. 

Tony focused on the sets, the cinematography, all the little details of the masterclass in cinema unfolding in front of him -- anything to avoid thinking about Steve. How he had felt the warmth rolling off him and smelled the bay rum aftershave that he’d probably borrowed from Jarvis. How easy it would have been to lean over and rest his head on Steve’s broad shoulder, reach up to idly play with the hair on the back of his head, then maybe even pull him gently down for a kiss. Dear god - these were dangerous thoughts. Lost in his own head, Tony scarcely noticed when the film was over.

Steve reached over and tapped him on the shoulder, waking him from his reverie. “Tony? I’m sorry. Bucky always complained about how I’d paw at him during exciting scenes when we went to the movies. I just kinda get caught up in the moment, you know?” He was genuinely contrite, which made it even more impossible for Tony to not fall even harder and faster for him. 

“Nah, Cap. We’re good. No harm, no foul. Better start looking for somewhere to lay our weary heads.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, more pining. Always with the pining. But Steve now has some useful intel... let's see what he does with it.
> 
> I've added a tentative final chapter count; it's likely to rise a bit, as I'm midway thru writing Chapter 22 and still haven't hit the two main plot points needed before I wrap up the story. I don't see it going much over 27-28 chapters unless the muse really gets wound up. 
> 
> As always, feel free to come say hi over on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/polizwrites).


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tracks down another hotel room for the two of them, then calls home to check on the fallout of the blowup with his father. He talks to Jarvis, then asks for Peggy. Tony makes a confession to his aunt, and receives a bit of reassurance. Tony then gives Steve his first taste of Asian food, with surprising results.

Tony sweet-talked the theater manager into borrowing their phone and phone book. But he wasn’t having any luck finding a hotel room. There was something going on in the city that meant nearly every decent hotel was booked up. Tony supposed he could have pulled out the “do you know who I am?” spiel, but that felt too much like something Howard would do. 

He finally tracked down a Holiday Inn way over on Flatbush and begged them to hold the room. The bus was running late and it was after dark before they got to the hotel. Tony handed his card over to the desk clerk, who didn’t even look up from his book to run the card through the machine and slide over the key. 

They opened the door and goddammit, he’d forgotten to ask for a room with two beds. “Oh no. Let me go down and see if they can switch...”

“It’s fine, Tony. Really," Steve reassured him. "This is heaven compared to some of the places we had to bunk down out in the field. When it was cold enough, we’d all pile in together in a single tent. The guys would insist that Bucky and I sleep on either end, since we both tended to run hot.” 

“Both of you?” Tony raised an eyebrow. Steve rubbed at the back of his neck self-consciously; one of his tells for having said something he hadn’t quite meant to. 

“Don’t s’pose keeping it a secret really matters now. You see when the 107th got captured, back in October of ‘43, one of the German scientists, a maniac by the name of Zola... well, he did some experiments on Bucky. We think they were trying to come up with their own version of the super soldier serum, based on Schmidt. Phillips treated it as classified information.” 

Tony’s mouth went dry. That German medical report he’d read in his father’s workshop... the timeframe was right, and he could swear the name Zola had appeared a couple of times. But he couldn’t be sure and besides, it wouldn’t do any good to tell Steve about it. The past was in the past. 

“I’m sorry, Steve. Everything you’ve told me about Barnes makes him sound like a pretty great guy.” 

“You kind of remind me of him, Tony. He was a nut for science fiction, and loved working with his hands. He had a part time job at a garage before he enlisted.” The fond smile on his face eased Tony’s mind; perhaps Steve was starting to work through his grief at losing his best friend. 

They were setting their bags down when Steve’s stomach growled. “Really, Rogers?” Tony teased. “After that huge lunch and all that popcorn and you’re hungry again? If I ate the way you do, I’d be the size of one of the Macy’s balloons.” 

“They still do that? The Thanksgiving parade down 6th avenue?” 

“Sure - lots of holiday traditions here in the city. Christmas window displays at all the department stores, ice skating at Rockefeller Center, the ball drop in Times Square on New Year’s Eve...” 

“Never got to see that -- I couldn’t be out in in the cold for that long,” Steve commented wistfully. “Bucky went once and said it was a hoot and a half. Came back to the apartment half covered in lipstick.” 

“I never got to go either. Mom thought it was common; probably afraid I’d get molested by the unwashed masses.” 

“Maybe we could go this year,” Steve suggested. “I mean, if you’re not going to some fancy party or something.” 

“Sure, why not?” Tony responded. “You’re healthy as a horse now and I’m a bit too old for my mom to boss around anymore. It’s a date!” He instantly regretted his slip of the lip, but Steve didn’t seem to notice. 

“But we were talking about food,” Tony continued as smoothly as he could. “I bet the front desk has take out menus. Anything in particular sound good?”

“Between the Depression and the Army - I learned to eat whatever’s put in front of me.” 

“Well, I’m kinda craving pad thai. Ever had Asian food, Cap? Chinese, maybe?” 

Steve shrugged. “Nope, but I trust you, Tony.” 

“Okay, hang tight and I’ll see what I can scare up.” 

The desk clerk passed over a handful of menus, and when Tony asked if there was a phone he could use, pointed across the lobby. Tony found a place that looked promising - he called and ordered sweet and sour chicken, egg drop soup, a double order of white rice, shrimp pad thai and yam nua - a spicy beef salad that would clear his sinuses nicely.

He made another phone call. “Stark residence.” 

“Hey, Jarvis, it’s me. Have I been disowned?” 

“I don’t believe so, but your decision to absent yourself seems to have been wise.” 

“That’s what I figured. I did find an apartment I liked in Williamsburg, but it’s not available til the end of the week. Rogers and I are holed up in a Holiday Inn out on Flatbush for now.” 

“Oh dear.” 

“It’s not so bad. Is Aunt Peggy still around?” 

“She’s just getting ready to leave. Would you like to talk to her?” 

“Yes, please. Here’s the phone number of the hotel and the room number, just in case.” He read off the info to Jarvis, then held on the line until she picked up. “So, do I need to post bail, Aunt Peggy?” 

She laughed softly. “I’ve dealt with your father’s foibles since Pearl Harbor, Tony. This isn’t even the worst thing he’s done, although it ranks near the top of the list. I just wish he’d consulted with the Director before trying to set this all up on his own. Howard has a very bad habit of thinking he knows what’s best for everyone.” 

“Tell me something I don’t know. Thanks for cleaning up the mess; I’m afraid I just made things worse.” 

“Nonsense, Tony. Steve is in desperate need of a friend right now and you’re just what the doctor ordered. How is he doing?” 

“Remarkably well, actually. He came with me to look at an apartment, and then we spent the afternoon at the movies - a double dose of Hitchcock. I’m waiting on dinner delivery as we speak.” He took a deep breath, then blurted out, “Aunt Peggy, what would you say if I told you I think I have a crush on him?” 

“Well, first, I’d congratulate you on your excellent taste in men. Second, I’d thank you for trusting me with that bit of intel.” Tony exhaled in relief; he’d been fairly sure she would be okay with this part of who he was, but it had still been scary to say it out loud. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me I’m being foolish?”

“You’re no more foolish than any other young man in love, my dear. Listen to your heart, and keep your eyes open. I think you might be pleasantly surprised.” 

“What are you trying to say, Auntie?” Tony asked cautiously. Surely he was misunderstanding her; he didn’t dare risk his friendship with Steve by trying to come on to him. 

“Something that perhaps isn’t my story to tell.... But as a woman of mature years, I know time is precious and not to be wasted. Don’t pass up any opportunity to be happy, Tony.” 

“I’ll do my best. Thanks for everything. I’ll call home again in a day or two. G’bye.” 

“Take care, dear boy.” 

Tony had to knock on their room’s door with his elbow; as his hands were full. Steve opened the door, bare footed, hair damp and wearing an unfairly tight t-shirt. 

“Thought I’d get cleaned up while you were out.” And it was both a relief and a regret that he hadn’t been around when Steve was in the shower. Pushing the thought from his mind, Tony unloaded the bags, passing the soup over. “Thought I’d start you off with something simple. It’s chicken broth with egg.” 

It was gone in a matter of moments. Steve dug into the sweet and sour chicken next, despite eyeing the orange sauce suspiciously. He’d consumed the entire order before Tony had finished half of the pad thai. Setting his container aside, Tony cracked open the yam nua. “Here, try a bit of this. It’s cold spicy beef.” 

Tony held out his fork with a bit of the beef on it. But instead of taking it in his own hand, Steve leaned in and ate it directly off the utensil. Watching Steve’s lips wrap softly around the tines, then slowly withdraw, Tony’s mind headed straight for the gutter. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, among other parts. Then Steve’s eyes went comically wide as he gasped and took a huge drink of water. 

“Eat some rice - water just washes the chili oil around your mouth.” Tony recommended, trying hard not to laugh, even though it wasn’t all that funny. He honestly hadn’t expected such an extreme reaction. Steve crammed his mouth full with rice, chewing furiously, then swallowing. 

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Tony!” he exclaimed, “How can you stand that?” 

“It’s an acquired taste. For some people, capsaicin -- the stuff that causes that burning feeling -- it releases chemicals in the brain that make you feel good.”

“You’re kidding. You put up with that just to get a little buzz?” 

“Yeah - guess that makes me a bit of a masochist,” Tony grinned. “Give it another try, though. This bit doesn’t have near as much sauce on it.” This time, Tony played it safe by putting the piece in question directly on Steve’s plate. He sampled it, then reached over with his own fork to try some more. 

“Huh - guess It’s not so bad, now that I know what to expect.” Steve ended up eating about two thirds of what was left, alternating with rice every two or three bites.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes - more close quarters for Tony and Steve - the pining and UST* are ramping up like you won't believe!  
> And Peggy, having been a spy for longer than Tony's been alive, is quite aware of these boys' feelings toward one another. However, her gentle encouragements seem to be falling on deaf ears. 
> 
>    
>  * Unresolved Sexual Tension - aka the reason a good chunk of the stories on this site exist!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of playful roughhousing sends Tony to the showers and Steve to church. A day spent out and about gives Steve some perspective (but alas, not quite enough courage), and Tony learns a little more about Steve's recovery. It's been a busy weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: This chapter may skirt the border between Teen and Mature ratings for some, due to a short (1 paragraph) fantasy sequence fairly early in this chapter. The wording is not explicit, but the ideas kinda are.
> 
> EDIT: Check out the [AMAZING artwork](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9558419) for a scene in this chapter courtesy of smolsofa !! It's a wonderful representation of that moment and I am thrilled and humbled that they took the time to create this.

Once they had finished the yam nua, Steve started at the remaining pad thai with a longing look. 

"Good lord, Rogers, really? You are some sort of bottomless pit -- like a sarlacc, but better looking." 

"Thanks for the compliment, champ. You talk to all your dates this way?" 

"What?" Tony said, suddenly breathless.

"Well, you did take me to the movies, and then bought me dinner," he commented with a sly grin, and Tony realized he'd been suckered in by Steve's dry sense of humor again,

"Jerk!" He shoved playfully at Steve's shoulder, which didn't budge an inch. 

"Punk!" and Steve went to return the shove. But Tony blocked the push, and they somehow ended up wrestling. Pulling out a couple of moves he'd learned from the self-defense classes his mother had insisted he take after the first time he was kidnapped, Tony actually held his own for a few moments. 

But he then found himself flat on his back on the bed with Steve above him, straddling Tony’s thighs and holding his wrists above his head in a tight, somehow thrilling grip. They were face to face - so close he could see a darker ring of blue around Steve’s irises. 

“Gonna cry uncle?” Steve's voice was low and teasing. 

Tony didn't dare open his mouth; he was afraid he'd beg Steve to kiss him, to touch him, to fuck him, to love him and never let him go. The tense moment broke when Steve awkwardly scrambled up, backing away and apologizing profusely.

"Tony, I don't know what got into me ... I am so sorry! I didn't hurt you, did I?" His eyes were wide and they were both breathing heavily. 

"I'm fine, Cap - no worries. Just a little roughhousing between friends, right? I'm going to get cleaned up here before bed." Tony pushed past Steve, grabbing his duffel before escaping to the bathroom. Sagging heavily against the closed door, he was surprised he hadn't passed out, considering most of his blood had headed straight to his nether regions. 

A cold shower wasn't going to cut it this time. He couldn’t control his fevered imagination: the two of them in that same position, but naked as the day they were born; the feel of Steve holding him down, taking whatever pleasure he wanted from Tony, and giving it back twice over. Being cradled in his arms afterwards, their breaths mingling as they fell asleep together. The water pelted against his shoulders and Tony muffled his moans against his arm as he took himself in hand. 

By the time Tony came back out, Steve was already curled up on the far side of the bed, quiet and still. Emotionally and physically exhausted, he fell asleep quickly. Much too early the next morning, Steve was up and around, although obviously trying to be quiet about it. "I'll be back in a little while, Tony" he called out from near the door, and Tony mmphed a reply. Before he fell back asleep, he thought he heard church bells. 

Tony woke some time later to the smell of coffee, and Steve murmuring quietly. He listened more closely, and he almost recognized the words:

> _Ave Maria, gratia plena,_  
>  _Dominus tecum_  
>  _Benedicta tu in mulieribus,_  
>  _et benedictus_  
>  _fructus ventris tui, Iesus_  
>  _Sancta Maria, Mater Dei_  
>  _ora pro nobis peccatoribus,_  
>  _nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae_  
>  _Amen._

Tony snuck a peek to see Steve on his knees at the edge of bed, head bowed, and hands clasped. Ah - so that’s what it was. He waited for Steve to finish his penance. 

"Hey, Cap."

"Good morning, Tony," Steve replied, with a cautious smile. "Sorry if I woke you." 

“The coffee woke me, and don’t you dare apologize for that. Where've you been?”

"Well, I went out for walk, but then I heard the church bells. Saint Jerome's was just a block or two over. I wasn't gonna go at first -- I'm hardly wearing my Sunday best -- but the sign outside said ‘come as you are’ and there were other guys dressed like this, so I went in."

"I assume you didn’t tell the padre just how long it had been since your last confession?”

Steve laughed, “No, not exactly. They held the whole service in English... when did they start that?"

"Early 60’s, with Vatican II. But I'm sure there’s a Latin service somewhere in the city, if that would make you feel a bit more at home." 

"Maybe," Steve responded. He then added, "I saw a sign downstairs for a Sunday brunch at the hotel restaurant. Wanna check it out?"

Tony restrained himself from asking if the body and blood hadn’t been enough and started getting ready. The restaurant wasn't busy at all, which was just as well, since Steve must have gone through at least a dozen pancakes and two rashers of bacon, along with an astonishing amount of fruit salad. Tony made a note to sign him up for the Nathan’s hot dog eating contest next Fourth of July.

"Whatcha want to do today, Rogers?" 

Steve shrugged. "What do people do for fun nowadays?"

"Things haven't changed that much. We could go back to the movies or check out a museum. If you're wanting fresh air, we could go to the botanical gardens or rent pedal boats at Prospect Park." 

"Is there still a zoo there?" Steve brightened up, and Tony was sad to disappoint him. 

"It's closed for a major rebuild and update. We could head up to the Bronx Zoo if you like."

After puzzling out the public transport route, the trip became quite the educational session for Steve. Tony had to nudge him several times to keep him from staring at their fellow passengers. But their journey passed without incident, and they were walking through the gates of the zoo just after noon. 

Steve was pleasantly surprised that very few animals were still kept in cages; Tony explained that there was a movement to replicate the animals' natural habitats whenever possible. The aviary in particular kept Steve's interest for over an hour, watching the antics of the residents. 

"I never realized birds could be this colorful. Of course, back in the day, I couldn't have seen all these colors anyways," Steve said, holding out his arm, a cup of seed in hand. Tony had tried it first, but couldn't remain still enough. After a few moments, something fluffy and green landed on Steve's hand, and the smile on his face lit up the whole aviary. 

They stayed until the zoo closed and on the way back to the subway station, Tony spotted a sign that read 'Burritos as big as your head,' so he steered Steve that direction. "Let's see if you're into Mexican cuisine, mi amigo!" Steve most certainly was -- demolishing four of the advertised burritos in about a half-hour, dipping them into the bowl of spicy salsa they'd requested. Steve was adapting nicely to international cuisine; Tony couldn't wait to see him tackle Ethiopian or Indian dishes. 

After walking around the zoo in the heat, Tony thought a frozen margarita would hit the spot. The goldfish-bowl-sized glass the server set in front of him took them both by surprise. “They oughta call this a ‘mega-rita’!” Tony tried to share it with Steve, who didn’t care for the taste of the tequila. So he consumed more of the drink than he probably should have over the course of their meal, leaving only an inch or so of the slushy goodness behind. 

Two young women came in to pick up an order; they were obviously a couple and very much in love; holding hands and kissing one another between giggles. The cashier seemed to know them, and they chatted together as he got their order ready. He and Steve had seen several same-sex couples at the zoo as well; a couple of whom were pushing strollers or holding a toddler's hand. Once again, Tony needed to gently remind Steve not to stare quite so much. After the women left, Steve turned to Tony. "Huh - so it really is okay, gals being with gals and fellas with fellas." 

"Yeah, it really is, for the most part. Still can't get married, but I hope that changes soon." 

Their trip back to Flatbush was an adventure. First off, the trains were running full, so they were standing right from the start. Added to this, the apparently brand-new driver was a little rough with the throttle and brakes. Tony was already having balance issues thanks to the mega-rita and nearly took a header at the first abrupt stop. Steve’s quick reflexes once again saved the day, as he flung an arm around Tony’s chest, saving him from a faceplant. 

“Hey, champ, how about putting both hands on the pole?” Steve advised. Tony very nearly blurted out something about that not being the pole he wanted to wrap both hands around, but stopped himself just in time. 

At the next sudden jolt of the car, Tony accidentally swung around and into a little old lady. After getting sworn at in what might have been Hungarian, Tony leaned towards Steve and said, “Betcha weren’t expecting to see a little pole dancing. I could do a lot better if I had more room.” It was mostly meant as a joke, but Steve’s sudden blush made Tony think he’d gone too far and offended his friend. “Sorry, Cap. Running off at the mouth again.” 

“Let’s try something else,” Steve replied as the blush faded. He re-positioned himself to stand behind Tony as they held onto the same pole. Steve then put his other hand on Tony’s hip to keep him steady, tucking a finger through one of his belt loops. Tony resisted taking a step back to lean against Steve; the desire to feel protected and cherished within his arms almost overwhelming. But instead Tony simply enjoyed the feel of Steve’s touch, strong fingers flexing as they steadied him through the the ebb and flow of the train’s movements. Tony slid his own hand up on the pole to rest against Steve's. That would have to be enough. 

They watched TV for awhile once they were back at the hotel, then got ready for bed. They’d figured out a routine; it was getting a little less awkward now with more time spent together. Having loose shorts and one of Rhodey’s old MIT shirts to change into helped, as he felt less exposed. Tony was almost asleep when Steve spoke. 

“You know that feeling, when you can’t tell whether you’re awake or asleep?”

“Yeah - why?”

“That’s what it felt like. While I was recovering ... I remember bits and pieces of what was going on around me. At least I think I do. Peggy came for a visit, right?”

“Yes - she stopped by one evening when I was standing watch. I stepped out to give her a little privacy.”

“What about Howard?”

“He came to check on you a couple of times, but I don’t know if he ever talked to you. What else do you remember?”

Steve paused. “Dreams... nightmares. Erskine getting shot. Crashing the Valkyrie. Bucky falling from the train. Being held prisoner and interrogated.” Tony felt awful.

“That last one might have been on us. You were thrashing around a bit at one point and we restrained you, so you wouldn’t hurt yourself. I heard you reciting your name, rank and serial number and we got you loose.”

“Sam told me. I guess I gave you a shiner for your trouble. I’m really sorry.”

“Not your fault.” They were quiet for awhile, then Steve spoke again. 

“When she came to see me... Peggy asked me to forgive her for going on with her life. Of course I did. I already had, after you had told me how she was doing, and that she was happy.”

“You heard all that, while you were still under?” Tony wondered what else Steve had heard and remembered from that night. 

“Yes - and Peggy asked me again, when we talked in the garden. I told her there was nothing to forgive. I'd known she was something special all along and I was glad the world finally took notice, too." Steve shifted slightly, then continued. "Peggy also cautioned me not to be so reluctant about expressing my affection. That if I found someone I thought I could care for, who I thought was maybe the right partner, not to wait too long.”

“She’s a smart lady, isn't she?” Tony hoped that Steve would find a woman worthy of him, sooner than later. He deserved all the happiness in the world.

"She was always good at figuring things out." Steve took a deep breath, which turned into a yawn. "Well, good night, Tony." 

"G'night, Cap." 

Tony lay awake for much too long that night. While he didn’t regret facing off against Howard in the slightest, he did wonder just how badly he’d screwed himself over by doing so. Sure, he had his trust fund to fall back on, but he really wanted to see his guidance system go into production, and the DoD robot proposal had a good chance of working out as well. 

Tony had never taken the threat of being disowned seriously; his father put too much stock in keeping a Stark in charge of Stark Industries. But he’d also never disagreed with his father about something so important. Words had been said he couldn’t take back, and wouldn’t want to even if he could. He’d just have to man up and face the consequences of his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So excited to be finally posting this chapter! Flailing was involved in both the writing and beta'ing. 
> 
> Yes, they're going to be silly boys for awhile still, but their relationship is definitely strengthening. 
> 
> As for the next chapter, there just might be a couple of familiar faces joining the cast...


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a quick stop at the guest house, Tony returns to his project at SI - an interview and an recommendation from Obediah result in new teammates.  
> In the meanwhile, Steve goes to visit his old neighborhood. It doesn't go well, but gifts from Maria and Peggy help make life a bit easier.

The alarm Tony had set went off, waking them both. Steve was kind enough to go on a coffee run while Tony got ready.

"Any plans for the day, Cap?" he asked when Steve returned, bearing the nectar of the gods. 

"Might go check out the old neighborhood." He tried to refuse when Tony gave him cash for lunch, but grudgingly accepted it after Tony cajoled him. "You can autograph a couple of your vintage comics in exchange; then I’ll make some serious bucks auctioning them off." 

Tony got back to the guest house about quarter after seven. His stuff all seemed to be in order, with the addition of a large envelope left sitting on the table. He recognized Aunt Peggy's handwriting on the brief note that read _'For Steve'_.

Tony called the SI admin who had been assigned part-time to his DoD proposal project. "Good morning, it's Tony. I just wanted to double-check what was on my schedule for today." And confirm that Howard didn’t cancel the project in a fit of pique, Tony thought. 

"You have two interviews for the project manager position - a Mr. Stone at eleven, and a Ms. Potts at two." He thanked her, then donned a suit and went into the office; getting a bit of design work done before the first interview. While Mr. Tiberius “Call me Ty” Stone seemed to have all the proper qualifications, there was something a little off-putting about him that reminded Tony of Undersecretary Pierce. After a somewhat cursory interview, he thanked Stone for his time, saying they’d be in touch by the end of the week.

Ms. Virginia Potts was a bit intimidating at first, with her sky-high heels, severely tailored suit and hair pulled tightly back into a bun. But her smile seemed genuine, and her demeanor softened a bit as they discussed both the potential project and her experience and background. She was a recent graduate of NYU's Stern School of Business and had interned with a Stark Industries subsidiary. One of the projects she’d worked on was something that Obie had oversight of, which was probably how she'd come to his attention in the first place. 

"Well, Ms. Potts - do you have any further questions?"

She looked at him intently, then replied, "Not at the moment. Thank you for your time, Mr. Stark."

"You as well. We'll let you know what our decision is in the next day or two." He'd already decided that she was his top choice. And while Ms. Potts was quite attractive, it truly was her resume that had made the determination clear. Tony wrapped up some loose ends, and was on his way back to the guest house by about five, bringing some paperwork with him. He went into the bedroom and found a largish box labeled with Jarvis’ precise writing. 

' _Mrs. Stark expresses her regrets at the departure of Captain Rogers. Please make sure his belongings are returned to him at your earliest convenience._ ' While she rarely openly defied her husband, his mother was just as headstrong in her own way. Tony picked up a few more things of his own and headed to the garage with his arms full. 

It felt good to get behind the wheel again, even if it meant contending with traffic and obscene bridge tolls. Tony pulled into the hotel parking lot about six-thirty. He'd have to put in an hour or so of work after dinner; hopefully Steve wouldn't mind. But he wasn't there. 

Tony was a little surprised, but figured Steve was still exploring his old neighborhood and would be returning any time. He dug into the papers he'd brought back with him and the next thing he knew it was after nine. Now he was getting a little worried. Surely Steve hadn't gotten lost -- the guy had found his way through unfamiliar countryside and across enemy lines with a couple hundred POW’s in tow. Brooklyn just wasn't that much of a challenge in comparison.

Steve finally came through the door just before ten, exhaustion clear in every step. "The prodigal son returns! What, did you walk all the way back from Vinegar Hill?" Tony asked, getting a weary nod in reply.

"I couldn't find it. It should have been right there. But it wasn't."

"What wasn't there?" Tony asked; the pained frustration in Steve's voice concerned him.

"I know it was the right street and the right block,” Steve continued, pacing in the small space between the bed and the dresser. “But me ‘n’ Bucky's apartment building was gone. The whole damn block was demolished and they renumbered everything when they rebuilt. It's like it never existed. Like we never existed." He was clenching his fists so tightly that Tony was afraid his nails were drawing blood. 

"I'm so sorry, Steve. About three and a half decades ago, there was a huge building boom in the city. A lot of great old buildings got torn down in the name of progress."

Steve shook his head sorrowfully. "It was a dump. But it was our dump, ya know? And it's not like I haven’t seen how much the city has changed since my time. But when it’s my neighborhood, my home? It's like... well... kind of like Howard and Peggy. The person I remember is still there, in hints and glimpses, but at the same time, they're not." Steve stopped pacing and leaned back against the dresser, hands gripping the edge while staring at a spot somewhere above Tony’s head. 

"At least the cemetery looked pretty much the same," Steve continued quietly, his eyes flicking quickly to Tony and then back to the wall. "I took some flowers to put on Ma’s grave. The marker isn't much, only about two feet high, with her name and dates on it. She always made sure to set money aside every week, for funeral expenses and the plot. Tried to keep it a secret, but I knew. After all, it was supposed to be for me." At that, Steve crumpled.

Tony caught him, guiding Steve to the edge of the bed where they sat while he cried -- deep, heavy sobs that, despite wracking his body, were almost eerily silent. Tony held him as best he could, murmuring assurances that felt hollow. He didn't know what Steve was going through, couldn't make everything alright. But he did have him, could keep him safe, at least for a while.

Pulling away and breath hitching with the last dregs of his outburst, Steve finally spoke. “I'm sor--," he started, but Tony broke in. 

"Nuh-uh, you've used up your allotment of apologies for the month, Rogers. We're good. And hey, I've got some things for you. First, a box from my mom.” He nodded towards the top of the dresser. “More clothes, personal grooming supplies and probably some cash stuffed in the pants pockets. Just like the care packages I used to get from her when I was in college. Then there's this from Peggy." Tony handed over the packet to Steve. He opened it and pulled out a handful of documents, including a passport, and a checkbook. A card slipped from the stack and Tony picked it up to see a New York driver's license for Steven Grant Rogers, born July 4, 1968.

"So, now you're only two years older than I am," Tony commented, handing the card over. "The photo might give the ID away as fake, though. No one looks that good on their driver's license." Steve laughed, just a little: mission accomplished. 

"Peggy took a couple snaps when she came out to the house last week. Had me sign my name a few times too. Said she was working on giving me options.” He opened an envelope and his eyes grew wide when he looked at the contents. "That can't be right." He handed it over to Tony -- it was a bank statement with a current balance of nearly thirty thousand dollars. There was a note written at the bottom: ' _Consider this an advance on your back pay - Peggy_ '

"Well, that represents all sorts of options there, Cap."

"I can't possibly accept this," Steve replied, half in awe, half in dismay.

"How much were you making a week when you were in the army?" Steve quoted a figure, and Tony ran the numbers in his head. "Behold the power of compound interest. That's just about on the nose, accounting for inflation and not including any insurance policy payouts."

Steve shook his head. “Still doesn’t seem right.” Then Tony had an idea. 

“Think of it as a grant, a scholarship. You said you wanted to take some art classes, right? Well, here’s your chance. There’s tons of art schools around the city now.” 

“They’d want to see my portfolio, and I don’t have anything to show them.” 

“So sign up for a few classes at City College for the fall semester while you put something together.” 

“Maybe,” Steve replied dubiously, “But I’d still need to find somewhere to live.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Tony interjected. “That apartment we looked at has two bedrooms, remember?” He’d gotten so accustomed to having Steve around that the thought of him striking out on his own just felt wrong. Besides, the guy had a lot to learn about living in the modern world and probably needed all the help he could get. And yes, there was a selfish urge there as well, he could admit that. 

“Tony, I’ve imposed on you so much already, I couldn’t possibly...” 

“I’m not good at living on my own, Cap. Just ask Rhodey. I stay up all damn night, forget to eat, and I let the place become a pigsty. You don’t want me to turn into Gollum, now, do you?” 

“I get that reference, for once,” Steve replied with a small smile. When Tony had told him that Tolkien had written additional novels set in the world of _The Hobbit_ , he’d been thrilled; devouring _The Lord of the Rings_ in a weekend.

“So, is that a ‘yes’?” Tony asked. “You can use the living room as your studio.” 

"I’m feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment,” Steve replied. “How about we call it a night and decide tomorrow?"

They were up early the next morning, with Tony going into work and Steve saying he'd head to the library and start looking at art schools. Obie stopped by Tony’s desk late in the morning with a young woman he recommended that Tony consider for his intern position. 

"Nadia, meet Tony Stark, the young genius who'll be taking this company into the next century. Tony, Miss Roman has been my secret weapon this summer, but I can spare her for the next month or so before she starts at John Jay for the fall semester."

Nadia Roman was a striking redhead, perhaps two years Tony's junior, but utterly poised and self-assured. She smiled pleasantly when they shook hands and he felt unexpected calluses at the base of her thumb. Perhaps she spent time at the gun range as a hobby. "What do you know about robotics?" he asked.

"Not much," she admitted. "but I'm a quick study. Just ask Mr. Stane." And perhaps it was his imagination, but Tony could swear her smile turned suggestive for just a moment. "I'd love to learn more about your project. Perhaps over lunch?" Tony hadn't planned to take a lunch break, but he found himself quite intrigued by her. He'd already contacted his interviewees, letting Stone know that they'd found another candidate, and confirming with Potts that she could start on Monday. It couldn't do any harm to catch a quick meal with Ms. Roman.

Two hours later, they were still engrossed in conversation at a cafe down the street. He learned that she intended to major in computer forensics, and would therefore be taking classes in both computer science and criminal justice. “But I nearly went to Julliard for ballet. I still take classes and practice on my own. Keeps me flexible." And there was that sly smile again. Tony realized he'd have to watch his step around this young woman.

They returned to the office and Tony surveyed the mounds of paperwork on his desk. “Looks like I’ll be working late tonight,” he commented. 

“Would you like me to stay as well?” she asked. “I don’t have any plans for the evening.”

“That’s quite all right, Ms. Roman. Not sure there’s much you could help me with at the moment.” 

She looked Tony up and down slowly, with a brief, but noticeable pause right around belt-level. “Oh, I’m sure I could find a way to be of assistance,” she replied, with a lively smirk. 

To be honest, if he’d met Nadia a few months previous, he just might have been up for dipping his pen in the company inkwell; but not now. Not only could it cause drama in the workplace -- something his probationary project didn’t need -- but the idea of a one-night stand just didn’t appeal the way it used to. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to have to decline. I’ll let Mr. Stane know about my decision in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A busy day for both our boys. Tony just might have his hands full with Ms. Roman, but Peggy certainly has come through for Steve.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a slight misunderstanding, Steve and Tony work their way through the week in separate pursuits. Over the weekend, Sam helps them move into the new apartment. It's going to take some getting used to.

Tony returned to their hotel room after work to find an envelope with his name on it sitting on the bed and Steve nowhere around. His heart rabbited as he opened it, afraid he’d find a goodbye note - ‘so long and thanks for all the fish’ kind of deal. But it was a check for a few hundred dollars, and an itemized list of Steve’s share of the expenses from the past week: meals, the hotel room, even the movie tickets, all neatly added up. This was somehow even worse - as if Steve were simply paying off his tab on the way out. Tony sat heavily on the edge of the bed, putting his head in his hands. Maybe it was for the best. 

“Hey, Tony,” Steve said as he came through the door not five minutes later, a plastic bag over his shoulder. “Oh, good. You found my note.” Steve set down the bag and started pulling clothes out of it. Some of them were familiar looking... some of them were his. 

“Wait, what are you doing with my stuff?” Tony was dumbfounded; he’d thought Steve had gone for good. Instead, here he was, neatly folding Tony’s favorite t-shirts like nothing had happened. 

“I asked the maid if there was somewhere around here I could do laundry. Figured that would be cheaper than sending it out, like you were going to do. I’m lousy with an iron, though, so your shirts and other suit went to the cleaners. They’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.” 

Still reeling a little, Tony waved the check and list at Steve. “What’s this about?” 

“Well, now that I’ve got some money of my own, I wanted to pay back my share. Do the numbers not add up? I had to guess at some of the meals, but I did my best.” 

“That’s not what I meant. You don’t have to do this, Steve.” Seeing the last couple of days laid out in terms of dollars and cents somehow reduced everything to a financial transaction instead of an act of friendship, and that hurt more than Tony would have thought. 

“Yes, I do,” Steve responded with a serious tone. “You’ve done so much for me already. And I’ve come between you and your father.” 

“That gap was a mile wide before you ever entered the picture, Cap,” Tony replied ruefully. “Besides, it’s not like I can’t afford to pay your way.” That hadn’t come out right at all; Steve bristled at his reply. 

“I was raised never to take charity unless there was absolutely no other option. Even then, we paid it back the best we could, as soon as we could.” The stormy look Steve gave him told Tony just how badly he was messing everything up.

“Listen, Steve. You’re right. I didn’t mean to make you feel beholden.” Tony explained. “I just wanted to help you out -- like I would Rhodey, or Miriam. You’re...” And before he said too much, he took a deep breath to calm himself. “I’m sorry. Thank you for the check.” 

Steve relaxed a little as he replied, “You’re welcome, Tony. Sorry I got my back up a little. I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I don’t know how I would have coped with all this otherwise.” 

 

As soon as Tony got to the office the next morning, he called Obie and got his voicemail, which made things easier. “Hey, it’s Tony. Just wanted to let you know I don’t think Ms. Roman would be a good fit for the project. I appreciate the recommendation. Talk to you later.” 

Obie stopped by later that day and was unusually adamant that Tony take Roman on as his intern. “She’s a smart cookie, Tony. Just like that kid in the movie - you know, the one where they break into a military computer that runs war simulations?” 

“You mean _War Games_?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” 

“So you want someone who could inadvertently start a nuclear war to work on a military project?” Tony replied archly, but Obie didn’t get the joke. He also didn’t think the fact that she was only available until the end of the month was a big deal. 

“Interns are disposable by nature, Tony. Use ‘em and lose ‘em - just make them sign an NDA and it’s all good.” Tired of arguing, Tony finally acquiesced. He’d have her do data entry or something else simple. Hopefully it would keep her too busy to flirt. 

Ms. Potts, however, would have a great deal more responsibility. She’d already been through the first round of interviews at SI before Tony talked to her and her background check was complete -- she’d passed with flying colors -- so he could fast-track her for security clearance. Tony had made sure she knew that this might only be a temporary position and it was dependent on the RFP being accepted, but she indicated she was willing to take the gamble. That, as much as her resume, had made him decide she was the right person for the job. 

Most of the rest of the week was spent in getting the office space set up for his project, which involved a lot of ‘hurry up & wait’. In the meanwhile, Tony kept working on his preliminary designs and read through the RFP so many times he practically had it memorized. There was no way he was going to let Justin Fucking Hammer get this contract -- Tony could build a better robot out of a box of scraps while stuck a cave in a desert. 

Tony’s project was finally assigned a repurposed conference room tucked away at the back of the building. It was barely big enough for 3 desks and the CAD/CAM terminal he requested. Tony was thankful for the wall of windows that opened up into a common area; the way Roman been behaving, he was afraid he’d need every possible advantage to avoid her clutches (and a potential sexual harassment lawsuit). 

Tony stayed late at SI all week, not getting back to the hotel until seven or eight at night, but Steve seemed satisfied spending his days at the library, or exploring what would become their new neighborhood. He’d already scoped out several restaurants they could try, and found an art supply store that Tony was sure would become his second home. Steve had also submitted his application for City College, having reached out to Peggy for help. She provided a high school transcript, and SAT scores, as well as military discharge papers.

Not surprisingly, Steve had insisted on taking a sample SAT test to provide an actual basis for the score. He did remarkably well after having reviewed a couple of study books; coming in just a little higher in the verbal section than Tony had, much to his amusement and Tony’s chagrin. “Guess all those books Bucky read to me when I was a kid did something for my vocabulary!” he crowed. 

After work on Friday, Tony picked Steve up from the hotel and they drove back to the guest house. The plan was to spend the evening packing up the rest of Tony’s belongings so they could move into the apartment that weekend. He’d called Jarvis to make sure they wouldn’t run into his father and was told, “Sir and Mrs. Stark left this afternoon for the country home and will be there through the weekend.” Just the break they needed. 

“Looks like I’m going to need to rent a truck to transport all this - especially after we raid my storage locker and factor in Dum-E. We’ll need to get the car over there as well. Hey, is that driver’s licence of yours actually any good, Rogers?”

“Depends - if you need a German troop transport hotwired and driven hell for leather across ten miles of bombed-out countryside, I’m your man.” 

Tony snorted. “Nah, that’s okay. I’ll see if Wilson is available.” 

It was just their luck that Saturday was a record-setter in terms of heat and humidity in the city. Tony estimated that the three of them went through literally gallons of Gatorade that afternoon. At least the elevator worked; Steve had mentioned that he and Bucky had lived in a fifth floor walkup. 

“I’m getting too old for this, Stark. Beer and pizza to help a friend move just doesn’t cut it anymore.” Wilson gasped, as he set down a box from the last load. “Why couldn’t that robot of yours help out?” 

“The robot’s name is Dum-E, and he only has one arm, Sam.” Steve replied tiredly from his spread-eagle position on the cool hardwood floor. Tony wasn’t sure what was more exhausting, schlepping everything into the apartment or trying manfully not to ogle Steve -- the way that sweat-soaked t-shirt stuck to his body was practically a sin. 

“I really appreciate your help, Wilson,” Tony replied. “I’ll make it up to you, somehow, someday. Maybe when you and Miriam shack up together.” 

“You don’t miss a trick, do ya, kid? You’ll have to make a trip down to DC, tho. Didn’t Mirrie tell you she’s decided to accept that job at Georgetown?.” 

“No she hadn’t, but we haven’t talked in a bit. Congratulations and mazel tov all around! When are you two lovebirds heading south?” 

“Pretty soon - I’m back on duty the fifteenth and we still need to get settled. Now, where’s that beer you promised?” 

Once mass quantities of both pizza and beer had been consumed, Wilson headed back out.

“I’m down for the count, Cap,” Tony admitted, wrung out from all the exertion. “See you in the morning.” 

“Okay, Tony - I’m going to stay up for a little longer. I want to finish this chapter.” He held up a history tome he’d been plowing through, having dug it out of one of the boxes stacked up around the room. 

Tony barely had the energy to make his bed before lying in it, deciding to postpone a shower until the morning. But no matter how tired his body was, he couldn’t fall asleep. It was too quiet. 

Which was stupid. He’d slept alone all his life. Even when he lived with Rhodey, their beds were either on opposite sides of the room in the dorm, or they had separate bedrooms. He refused to believe that he’d gotten so reliant on another person being in the same room (or same bed) as him. After tossing and turning for the better part of two hours, Tony finally turned the radio on, dialing in static in hopes that it would at least somewhat replicate the sound of Steve’s breathing. 

Tony stumbled out into the living room late the next morning to see Steve putting his shoes on. He looked up, hair rumpled, eyes bleary and voice rough. “Just heading out to get breakfast. Didn’t sleep so well.” 

“Me neither. Probably just the new place. Unfamiliar sounds, fresh paint smell, stuff like that.” 

“Yeah, that must have been it,” Steve replied, sounding a bit evasive. “Any requests?” 

“You know what I like. Thanks, Cap.” Steve threw him a salute and headed out the door. Tony grabbed a quick shower while Steve was gone, realizing only once he was done that he hadn’t brought any clothes in with him. So he stepped out into the living area with a towel slung around his hips, headed back towards his room. Steve was just coming back in the door and had stopped dead to stare at Tony. 

“Do I look that awful, Rogers? I’m trying to grow a beard, look more mature and stuff.” 

“No, no... I just... I wasn’t expecting...” he stuttered, his eyes clearly running up and down Tony’s body.

“Sorry to offend - figured the army would have gotten you used to seeing skin.” 

“That’s not... never mind.” Steve quickly walked over to the kitchen to set the tray and bag down. His back towards Tony, he added, voice oddly strained, “Got some bagels from the bakery down the street. And coffee.” 

“Thanks - I’ll be right out.” Tony rifled through boxes to find clean clothes, glancing in the mirror to try to figure out what had caused Steve’s reaction. The beard was pretty patchy - maybe he should go more for a goatee look instead. By the time he came back out into the living area, Steve had already set out the food as best he could.

“There’s plates and silverware somewhere around here,” Tony commented, looking at the stacks of boxes lining the walls. “Guess I know what we’re doing today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems things are progressing nicely for our boys - Tony's going to be busy with work for awhile and Steve is developing his own interests. But neither of them appear to be sleeping well anymore... 
> 
> And yes - I added two more chapters to the total count - as I just finished the first draft of Chapter 26 and sketched out the rest of the beats I need to hit with my beta's help - we realized there's no way they'd all fit into two chapters. Yay for more story!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a dinner out, Steve makes another move, and Tony once again totally misses the point. Tony drags himself into work the next day to meet his new teammate, Ms. Virginia Potts. She is (almost) all business; while Nadia appears more interested in Tony's leisure activities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this early because I just couldn't wait to share this chapter -- so much good stuff!

It took most of the day to get the apartment in some sort of order. The essentials were in place; Tony had made sure the cable service was turned on, and an additional phone line was installed for the computer. They decided to celebrate by going to an Indian buffet that was just around the corner. Once again, Steve was willing to try just about anything; the extra-spicy chicken vindaloo was a surprise favorite. Tony unsuccessfully stifled the small moan or two he made over the kheer - he loved Ana dearly, but her rice pudding simply couldn’t compare. 

They turned the TV on once they got back and happened to catch the final dance scene of _Footloose_. Steve watched curiously for the first minute or two, finally turning to Tony. “Is this really how people dance now?” 

“Well, it’s generally not quite so choreographed and definitely a lot less sparkly, but for the most part, yeah.” 

“What about the couples, you know, who are sweet on each other?” Steve asked as the scene wrapped up. 

“Generally they wait for a slow song, then put their arms around each other, sway back and forth a little and go round and round. It’s no foxtrot or two-step, but it gets the job done.” 

“Show me.” 

Tony assumed he’d misheard. “What?” 

Steve stood, walked to the TV and turned down the volume. “Show me,” he repeated a bit hesitantly, one hand tapping rapidly against his leg. But his gaze was steady, almost a challenge. 

“Um, okay...” Tony jumped up to rifle through the box of CDs next to the stereo, hoping the delay in finding some music would give him time to collect his thoughts. Surely Steve was just asking so he wouldn’t embarrass himself when he started going out on dates. What the hell was an Air Supply album doing here? Damn it, Rhodey... you think you’re being funny .... 

“We don’t need music, Tony. We can just ... pretend.” This was another bad idea, a terrible, awful idea. But he couldn’t say no to Steve.

“Okay, well... they start facing each other, as you’d expect.” Tony stood about a foot away from Steve - so close and yet not nearly close enough. “The man puts his hands on the woman’s waist,” he continued, taking Steve’s hands and putting them in place. Even through his clothing, Tony could feel the warmth radiating off Steve’s palms, the weight of them settling on his hips. 

“Wait, how come you’re the woman?” Steve interrupted. 

So you’ll know how to dance on your wedding day, Tony thought, but instead replied, “Because I’m shorter - since that’s generally how it works out. Anyways, the woman puts her hands on the man’s shoulders.” He matched deed to words, feeling Steve’s muscles twitch slightly under his touch. “Then they move a little to the left and right, in time with the music, turning slightly clockwise or counter-clockwise, it doesn’t matter.” Tony nudged Steve slightly, to get him moving. 

They started a gentle sway, taking small steps side to side. This was tough without music, and even tougher with Steve looking right at him. With a quizzical expression, Steve glanced down and asked. “Is there normally this much space in-between?”

“Depends on how well you like each other. This is about right for dancing with your cousin at a family gathering. But if you’re in love? Well, that’s something else. You’d probably pull her close, and she’d slide her arms around your neck and lean her head against you.” 

“Like this?” Steve replied softly, his hands shifting around to the small of Tony’s back as he drew him in. Almost instinctively,Tony moved his arms up to a more comfortable, natural position around Steve’s shoulders. His hands brushed the nape of Steve’s neck, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from his partner. Tony gave in to his desires and rested his cheek on Steve’s shoulder. It felt as if he belonged there, safe and secure, protected from the world. They continued moving as he listened to Steve’s heart -- one, two, three steps. One, two, three beats. 

A moment he wished could last forever had already gone on much too long. “Well, look at the time!” Tony pulled back, disentangling himself from Steve. “I promised Obie I’d finish up the gear positioning diagram for tomorrow morning. I think I left the drawings in the car. I’d better start on that before it gets any later. Damn, my drafting set is in the basement,” he babbled, backing towards the front door, grabbing his set of keys as he went. “Well, don’t wait up. I’ll let myself back in when I’m done - lock the door behind me.” 

Tony didn’t bother waiting for the elevator, dashing down five flights of stairs instead. He unlocked the storage area door with trembling hands, then threw himself into the creaky old desk chair, sending it spinning and careening across the room; a perfect match for his emotions. 

“Dum-E?” The ‘bot raised his camera and looked questioningly at Tony, who rested his head against his creation. He was breathing hard; and the wetness on his cheeks might not only be sweat. “What have I gotten myself into?” Dum-E’s double beep was meant to indicate an unrecognized command, but it sounded like welcome commiseration to Tony.

He turned on the radio, and apparently the universe was conspiring against him as the song playing was all too appropriate for the occasion:

> _Consider this, consider this, the hint of the century_   
>  _Consider this the slip that brought me to my knees_   
>  _Failed_   
>  _What if all these fantasies come flailing around_   
>  _And now I've said too much...._   
> 

Tony rummaged for a clean shop rag to wipe his face, then started unpacking boxes, focusing his attention on creating order out of chaos in the hot stuffy basement. The next thing he knew, the DJ was announcing the Ten O’Clock Music Block - a commercial-free five song set. He’d been down here for nearly two hours now. Steve hadn’t stormed in to demand what in the hell Tony thought he’d been doing, so that seemed like a good thing. And while the desire to hide out down here all night (or maybe the rest of his life) was strong, he remembered that Ms. Potts was going to be starting at SI the following morning and he’d better be ready. 

The apartment door opened at a touch; he’d have to remind Steve about keeping it locked. People don’t know their neighbors like they did back in the olden days. He half-expected Steve to be sitting in the living room, waiting for an explanation. But instead his door was closed and the room was dark. That was... just as well. 

It was another rough night and Tony felt as if he’d scarcely slept at all. But he had responsibilities to attend to, so when the alarm blared, he pulled himself out of bed. He’d set the coffee machine up on a timer, and Steve must have prepped it before going to bed the night before, as the drip cycle was just finishing up. His bedroom door was still closed; Tony had no idea if he was still in there, or had gone off on a morning run. Which was fine, he certainly didn’t need to know what Steve was doing every minute of the day. But just in case he was still sleeping, Tony made an effort to be as quiet as possible as he got ready.

Ms. Potts was already waiting at the security desk when he arrived just before nine. She looked stunning in a grey suit that set off her eyes. Those eyes were watching him closely as he greeted her, and asked the guard if her badge were ready. 

“All we need is a photo. Ms. Potts, if you’ll follow me?” She returned after a few minutes with her new badge clipped to her lapel. 

“I was told it was policy that Stark Industries employees were to wear their badge in a visible location at all times,” Potts said, giving Tony a pointed look. A bit abashed, he patted his pockets, eventually coming up with his own badge. He held it up to show the guard as they were waved through the checkpoint.

Tony felt like a sheepdog trying to herd a rather headstrong flock member as they walked through the building. Instead of letting him lead the way, she insisted on walking at his side and opening the doors for herself. When he pointed out the way to the cafeteria and the break room, Potts simply nodded without breaking stride. Finally reaching their rather cramped quarters, she took it all in with a single, cool look. 

“It’s not much, I know, but it’s going to be home for at least the next two months,” he said. He heard a quiet jangle, and looked down to see her hand shaking slightly, making her bracelets click together. So maybe Ms. Potts wasn’t as calm and collected as she was trying to appear. 

Tony went through a high-level explanation of what they’d be doing leading up to the proposal submission, as well as his plans for what came next, after the proposal was accepted. She nodded at all the right places and asked some fairly astute questions about the process as well as what her role would be. Tony found himself even more impressed with Potts as their conversation continued; she’d definitely been the right choice for this project. 

“So, here’s your computer credentials, the employee handbook, and a user guide for the email system, which is not completely useless, ” Tony finished. That got a smile from her, and he relaxed a little. “I was thinking that it would be best if you started by familiarizing yourself with the Request for Proposals documentation. So, um... I guess that’s about it for now. Any questions?” 

“Who’s the third desk for?” 

“We’ve got an intern assigned to us as well. She should be here any moment.” As if responding to a summons, Ms. Roman sauntered into the room. 

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” she said, “Sorry I’m a little late. Mr. Stane had something he wanted me to help him with this morning.” The tiny upturn of her lips made the statement sound like an innuendo. 

“Ms. Potts, this is Nadia Roman. She’ll be working on our project through the end of the month. She’s been busy entering the requirements from the RFP in a spreadsheet to make it easier to analyze. Ms. Roman, this is Virginia Potts. She’ll be managing our proposal. I imagine the two of you will be working closely together.” There was some sort of sizing-up going on between the two women that Tony couldn’t quite figure out. 

“So, Mr. Stark, how was your weekend?” Roman asked, after both women had apparently finished their assessments of each other. 

“Got settled into the new apartment. Figures we’d choose the hottest weekend this summer to move.” 

“We?” she replied, pouncing on the pronoun like a cat on its prey. 

“Uh, yeah. A friend of the family; he just got back from serving overseas. He’s staying with me while he figures out what he wants to do next.” Which was all technically true; the best kind of lie. 

“Where’d you move to?” 

“Got a place in Williamsburg. Nothing fancy - two bedrooms on the top floor of a freshly renovated building.” 

“The press would have us believe you’ve got quite the bachelor pad, Mr. Stark,” Potts commented. 

“If by ’the press’,” Tony replied, using air quotes, “you’re referring to tabloids like the _New York Post_ ; well, what they don’t make up out of whole cloth they exaggerate more than a little. I don’t know what my dad did to piss off their editor a few years ago, but it feels like the Starks have been one of their primary targets since then. But we’re not here to discuss the dregs of the fourth estate, are we?” He hadn’t meant to get so wound up, but she’d hit a sore spot. He took a deep breath. “Sorry. We’ve got a lot of work to do - how about we get started?” 

They each started working quietly on their own pieces of the project, but Nadia kept coming over to Tony’s desk. The first time, she laid a page on his desk, then bent over perhaps more than necessary to point out something, giving him a flash of the lacy red and black brassiere under her low-cut blouse. The second time, she rested her weight on the corner of his desk as she asked her question, swinging her leg. The skirt that was already a bit on the short side for the office dress code slid up another inch or two. 

“Could you show me where the restroom is, Ms. Roman?” Potts suddenly interrupted. Her request, while phrased politely, had an odd edge to it. 

“Certainly, Ms. Potts.” Roman replied, cocking her head slightly. They went off together, as it seemed women so often did. Tony started digging into a page of calculations and barely even noticed when they returned; as they left him alone for the rest of the morning. 

Right around noon, Potts said, “I’m at a good stopping point. Do you mind if I take lunch now, Mr. Stark?” 

“Not at all. I’m no clock watcher - as long as the work gets done, I’m good.” 

“Ms. Roman, would you care to join me?” 

“Why yes, thank you, Ms. Potts. Mr. Stark, how about you? Make it a threesome?” He wasn’t going to touch that with a ten-foot pole, and noticed the sharp look Potts gave Roman. So he wasn’t the only one that found her comments a bit unprofessional. 

“Afraid not - I have to go check in with Mr. Stane. I’ll see you both in about an hour.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obie pulls Tony into a business meeting with Howard - things go about as expected. Tony gets more comfortable around his teammates (and vice versa) while Steve is getting out in the world and making new friends, one of whom is their new neighbor.

Obie was pleased to hear about the progress Tony had made on the proposal, but had some specific questions that had him taking notes for follow up. As they were wrapping up, Obie commented, “Tony, I think your dad’s got some new alloy he’s tinkering with that might be just the thing for some of these parts. Let’s go up to his office and see if he has a few minutes.” 

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary right now,” Tony replied. He wasn’t ready for a face-to-face meeting with his father after their blowup, not without a little more time to mentally prepare himself. He still resented how his father had tried to pressure Steve to participate in a questionable mission so soon after being brought to the modern day.

“Nonsense - Howard’s always talking about synergy and leveraging assets within the company, and here’s a perfect opportunity!” Obie put an arm around Tony’s shoulders, smoothly steering him out the door and down the hall. 

They entered Howard’s office with barely a knock; something Tony would never have had the guts to do on his own. His father was on the phone, and they caught the end of his conversation. 

“Radcliffe, shut up and listen. I told you, I’ve already given you every scrap of info I have. I’m sorry that you don’t read German; find yourself a translator who knows medical terms and can keep their mouth shut. Make sure to redact the names and dates first. Samberly should have the chemical analysis of the samples to you by next week. I gotta go.” As soon as he hung up the phone, Obie greeted him.

“Howard! I’ve just been looking over Tony’s design for the robot’s gearbox and I think that new alloy you’re working on would be just the thing.” 

“Stane, I told you that it’s not ready for any sort of rollout yet. I have a very limited supply at the moment and still need to finish the tensile and flexural tests.” Howard replied. “Besides, Tony,” he added, “why are you designing a new gearbox? Surely you can use something off the shelf for your design. Something tried and tested.” Tony had tensed up, expecting some sort of nastiness, or at least a veiled reference to him siding with Rogers, but apparently his father was going to deal with that situation by pretending it had never existed, which was fine by Tony.

Tony started to explain that the components already in the SI inventory weren’t rugged enough to deal with potentially rough terrain, but Obie interrupted. 

“Howard, would you make sure I get copied on those test results? I’m sure we could find lots of new uses for a high-UTS alloy. Where’d you even come up with the idea for that combination?” 

Tony listened in as his father did his best to sidestep the question; he suspected the alloy had come from the Valkyrie. He still wasn’t clear why Howard was being so evasive around his business partner. Obie knew the purpose of the Arctic expeditions; why not tell him they’d found the plane, but not Rogers’ remains? It seemed plausible enough after so much time. 

“Tony, when do you think you’ll have that gearbox design done?” Obie asked suddenly, as if he finally decided pursuing his current line of questioning was fruitless. 

“End of the week. That should complete the drivetrain elements, which can go over to Fab. I’m moving on to the sensory array next,” he responded promptly. 

“See, Howard? He’s making great progress! Might even have the draft proposal done early!” Obie said, clapping Tony on the back. “Well, we better let you get back to work. See you later.” And he ushered Tony out of his father’s office. 

“I’d swear that something’s going on with your father; he just doesn’t seem to have his head in the game,” Obie commented as they returned to his executive suite. “Your mother’s not trying to get him to go on vacation again, is she?” He smiled as if he were telling a joke. “Anyways, I’ll keep chipping away at getting you some of that alloy, or at least the test results, so you can see if it’s a good fit for your project.” 

Tony knew he should appreciate the effort that the CFO of Stark Industries was taking on his behalf, but he couldn’t help but think that this relatively minor RFP had somehow become a proxy for a power struggle between Obie and his father, a bellwether for rocky times. Tony knew both of them would have to sign off on the proposal before he could submit it to the government, so he’d need to stay on both their good sides. 

Tony swung by the break room on the way back to their office, snagging a candy bar, a bag of chips and a coffee. He set his makeshift lunch on his desk before passing the questions Obie had raised to Potts. She said she’d look through the supporting RFP documentation to try to find the answers, so Tony dove back into the gearbox designs, absent-mindedly snacking throughout the afternoon. Roman remained focused on her work the rest of the afternoon, occasionally conferring with Potts. 

He’d set his watch alarm for five o’clock; he wasn’t about to ask his brand-new assistant to work late on her very first day. When it went off, he stood and stretched. “Well, I think we’ve all put in a good day’s work. I can’t guarantee we’ll always be leaving on time; in fact, I foresee multiple late nights in our future.” They both nodded amicably, which he took as a good sign. They wrapped up what they were doing and Tony followed his teammates out of the office, locking it behind them. “Have a good evening and I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The apartment was empty when Tony got back. There was a note on the table - Steve had gone over to City College for a tour and to talk to some of the instructors. He didn’t know when he’d be back. That was fine; Tony had brought some work home with him and soon had papers strewn all over the kitchen table.

Steve didn’t come home until after eight. “Hey Tony, guess what? Remember that theater we went to last week for the Hitchcock films? Well, I saw in the paper that they were showing _Wizard of Oz_ today and I just had to go. Such a great flick! That first scene in Munchkinland, where suddenly everything is in color? That wowed me even back then, when I was still pretty darned color-blind. You know, Bucky and I sat through three showings of the movie one Saturday. He charmed the usherettes and they let us stay, even snuck us in some popcorn. Buck had a huge a crush on Miss Garland, even joined her fan club.”

He sounded so excited and happy that Tony couldn’t be upset that Steve hadn’t thought to see if he was interested in seeing the movie, too. “Sounds like you had a good evening. How did the tour go?” 

“Great! Beautiful campus and the people I met were swell. I’ve got a copy of the fall schedule that I’m going to take a look at tomorrow.” 

“Sounds good. Join me for a little dessert?” Okay, so maybe the ice cream would technically be his dinner and not dessert, but he could indulge himself once in awhile. 

“Uh, sure. What’ve you got?” 

“Cookie dough ice cream. You’ll love it.” Tony got the container out of the freezer and dished it up. Steve took one of the bowls and sat on the other side of the table. 

“Thanks. Oh, I almost forgot - your new assistant, she started today, right?” 

“Yeah... but she’s a kind of an enigma. Sharp as a tack, but a bit aloof. Maybe that’s just her way of dealing with a hotshot whiz kid whose whole life has been put on public display. And then there’s my intern who has been flirting like crazy with me.”

“Has she now?” Steve put his spoon down, leaning forward and crossing his arms on the table, showing an additional level of interest that threw Tony off for a moment. 

“Yeah, but I’d be an idiot to follow through,” Tony replied, wondering if he'd read the same _Post_ articles that Potts apparently had. “You just don’t get involved with a co-worker; especially one that reports to you.” Steve sat back, looking a little more relaxed. Had he really assumed Tony was foolish enough to sleep with her? The thought was a little dispiriting.

“Well, I’m going to hit the sack,” Steve said after finishing his ice cream. “Don’t stay up too late.” 

Tony stayed up too late, dragging himself out of bed and through the shower the next morning. There was a box from the bakery down the street on the table along with a note. ‘Out for a run - have a good day.’ He scribbled a quick ’Thanks, Cap’ at the bottom before snagging a couple of donuts on his way out the door. 

His teammates were a little more talkative that morning, and Tony noticed they had started addressing one another by their first names. However, he was still “Mr. Stark” to them both. 

“You know, every time either of you says that,” he finally commented, “I keep thinking my father’s standing behind me - just call me Tony.” 

“Okay, Tony. Call me Nadia.” Her smile, for once, didn’t appear to carry any secondary meaning.

“Thanks just the same, Mr. Stark.” Potts replied. Okay - if that was what made her comfortable, he was fine with that. 

Tony was right in the middle of some tricky calculations when Nadia said she was breaking for lunch, so he just waved vaguely in her direction. Potts went with her, and when they returned, she set a fruit cup on his desk. “My eyes were bigger than my stomach,” she explained. “Wouldn’t want to see it go to waste.” 

“Thank you, Ms. Potts.” And while the system was crunching his numbers, he grabbed some coffee from the break room and picked at the fruit cup - he wasn’t a fan of cantaloupe. The afternoon went quickly; Tony called them over for a quick touchpoint meeting just before five. Nadia had finished entering the requirements into a spreadsheet and had set up several filters that Tony could see would be quite useful. And Potts was putting the final touches on an outline for one of the documents that would make up their proposal. 

“Great work, ladies... er... you guys... um... yeah. English really needs a gender-neutral second person plural pronoun, doesn’t it? I mean, I could go all Southern and say ‘y’all’, I suppose...” 

“Russian has four different pronouns, depending on how they’re used in a sentence,” Nadia boasted, while Potts’ eyes sparkled with a repressed smile. 

“Anyways, well done and see you both tomorrow.” 

Steve was actually home when Tony got back to the apartment. It had felt kind of as if he’d had been avoiding Tony the last day or two, but maybe that was Tony’s own sense of embarrassment over the events of the other night surfacing.

“A new neighbor moved in today,” Steve told him. “Helped the fella bring some of his stuff up. He’s got a dog and his name’s Clint.” 

“Is Clint the dog or the neighbor?” 

“The neighbor,” Steve laughed. “The dog goes by Lucky. He seems like a nice guy. Originally from Iowa, but said he’s moved around a lot since then. I invited him to stop by sometime, is that okay?” 

“Sure,” Tony replied, feeling an odd mix of jealousy and relief that Steve had made a new acquaintance. “This is your place, too.” As he told Steve a little about his day, there was a knock on the door. Tony opened it to find a guy about their age, hair on the long side, dressed in a sleeveless purple t-shirt and carrying a six pack of beer bottles. 

“Hi, I’m Clint. I met Steve, your roommate today and he invited me over... is this a good time?” 

“Yeah, c’mon in. I’m Tony. We were just about to order a pizza. You want some?” 

“I’m always up for pizza!” After Tony called in the order, the three of them got to talking. When Tony asked about Lucky, Clint explained that he was a service dog. “I’ve lost 80% of the hearing in my left ear, and about 60% in my right, so I wear these,” and he pointed out the hearing aids that had been hiding behind his hair. “Can’t keep them in all the time, so Lucky lets me know if the phone rings or someone’s at the door. I brought the beer over as kind of a peace offering, since he barks sometimes.” They told him they didn’t expect it wouldn’t be an issue. 

He also mentioned that he just started working at the local YMCA, which was about a mile from their apartment building. “Personal trainer, archery and self-defense instructor -- I do a little bit of everything.” 

“I stopped in there the other day,” Steve said. “Thought about signing up. Looks like it’s co-ed now?” 

“Yeah - most Y’s are; it’s just about an even mix of men and women, but we’re always looking for new members.” Tony thought that would be good for Steve; maybe he’d meet someone there to go out on a date with. 

“You want to sign up too, Tony? Not that you need exercise, that’s not what I meant,” Steve apologized, “Just might be a good way to get rid of stress. Maybe we could work out together.” Tony had a mental image of Steve in the communal showers after a workout flash through his mind and nearly choked on his beer. 

“Uh, maybe?” The doorbell rang; it was the delivery guy. Clint’s eyes widened slightly when he saw that they’d ordered four pizzas, but didn’t say anything. As Tony was putting up the leftover pizza (Steve had actually tried to eat like a normal person in front of their guest), Steve asked if he could go say hi to Lucky. 

“Sure. And you’re welcome to come too, Tony.” 

Clint had a studio apartment across the hall from them; it didn’t look as if he had much to unpack. Lucky was sitting up in his bed, alert, but patient. “We’ve got company, buddy - come say hi!” He bounded over to them, and Steve crouched down to greet Lucky. 

Tony hadn’t realized just how big Lucky would be. The mutt was probably every bit of 75 pounds, and looked to be all muscle. But despite his intimidating appearance -- he was at least part pit bull, Tony guessed -- he was quite friendly and seemed well-trained. They spent about an hour over at Clint’s apartment, Steve and Lucky playing a spirited game of tug of war, as the three of them talked about this and that. 

“It was good to meet you guys,” Clint said, as they were leaving, “And thanks for the pizza. Come stop in at the Y sometime - you can try out a class for free.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes - another familiar face joins the cast! What could he be doing here?   
> Assuming I can keep to my twice-weekly posting schedule - y'all will find out near the end of the month...


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and his teammates make good progress on the proposal, while Steve keeps himself busy; they visit the Y and discover a new activity. A call from Peggy spurs Steve to make a trip to DC; the boys have a nice chat on the way to the train station.

Tony and his teammates were busy that week. He had sent the gearbox and chassis blueprints to the fabrication department and moved on to the arm articulation design, abandoning his desk for the CAD/CAM terminal. Potts had assigned various ‘go-fer’ tasks to Nadia, which often sent her to other departments around SI. And even when she was in the office, the innuendoes and other questionable behaviors had dropped off considerably, which Tony found to be a relief. 

However, his teammates had apparently decided to start sharing their lunches with him. Tony would find various food items left on his desk, usually without comment. Part of him wanted to find it irritating, as if he couldn’t take care of himself, but another part of him recognized the kernel of truth in that. Rhodey had often teased him about it, saying Tony would get so deep in his work that he only thought to eat something if if were right there in front of him. Tony drew the line at yogurt, though. Like George Carlin, he wasn’t about to eat something with both a ‘Y’ and a ‘G’ in it. 

And despite Obie’s suggestion, Tony had decided not to wait for Howard’s alloy test results. Even if it turned out to be a good choice structurally for certain components, it would probably be much too expensive for the number of units the DoD would (hopefully) order. Balancing cost vs performance was something Tony wasn’t accustomed to, but he found he enjoyed the challenge. 

Steve had talked Tony into going to check out the Y one evening, and he was pleasantly surprised to see a relatively new building with some interesting equipment and classes. Not the the least of which was a rock climbing wall that extended the full height of the gymnasium. The idea of indoor rock climbing piqued his interest; he’d heard about a place in Seattle a few years ago that installed a wall, but he hadn’t expected to see one here. 

He and Steve both tried it out; Tony was thrilled to find one activity where being quick and wiry was just as advantageous as being big and strong. Tony tended to take more chances, which did lead to falls, but also often got him to the top first. They were both hot and sweaty after several runs up the wall, and Tony had never been more thankful for modern attitudes towards modesty than when he saw individual shower cubicles in the men’s locker room. 

Neither he nor Steve had brought up the whole ‘footloose and fancy free’ incident from the start of the week. It was easier for Tony to pretend that awkward moment never happened; just like how he and Howard were ignoring their blowup. But Tony thought he felt a new distance between him and Steve -- he missed the easy camaraderie of their initial friendship. Or maybe he was just imagining things. Now that they both had other things going on in their lives, they didn’t have to live in each others’ pockets. 

For example, Steve mentioned having lunch with Clint and going to the dog park with them afterwards. Tony did feel another stab of jealousy, but at the same time, he was glad that his friend was getting back out in the world. Tony hadn’t spoken much to Clint other than that first night they’d all hung out, but he seemed like a decent enough guy. 

Steve had also dropped a nice chunk of cash at the art supply store and had set up an easel in the living room, right next to the windows, with a couple of shelves to hold his supplies. He’d started working on a canvas, but when Tony asked about it, he got oddly shy, saying it wasn’t anything, and he was just messing about. But he left it covered, and Tony resisted the urge to peek. 

In fact, when Tony came home one evening, Steve was painting; so focused that he didn’t even notice Tony had come into the room.

“Whatcha up to, Rogers?” Steve put down the brush slowly, almost meditatively, as he stared at the canvas with a melancholy expression . He pulled the sheet back over it, draping it carefully, so as not to smear the paint. 

“Peggy called today,” he responded, unexpectedly somber.

A bit of a non-sequitur, but he could roll with it. “Anything of earth-shattering importance, or did she just want to say hello?” 

“She wants me to come to DC,” Steve replied. “There’s a situation that might have something to do with Hydra.” 

“Really? I thought you guys wiped those assholes off the face of the earth.” Tony probably knew more about the Nazi splinter group than most of his peers, thanks to the stories he’d heard growing up, but he’d thought them long gone, a footnote in history. 

“Thought we had, too,” Steve sighed frustratedly. “But SHIELD got some new info about an underground group they’ve been tracking for years - used to be called Leviathan. The coordinates that a SHIELD informant gave matched right up to a former Hydra base near Berlin. Seems like too much of a coincidence.”

“Are you sure you should be telling me this? Sounds like a matter of national security.” Tony tried to make it sound like he was joking, but he was concerned for Steve. 

“Didn’t want you to think I was just going sightseeing, Tony. Peggy said to plan for at least a week, and to bring my passport, just in case they need me to go to Germany.” 

“Oh. Are you... okay with that?” Tony carefully asked. It seemed a lot to ask of Steve, especially if they wanted him in a more active role. 

Steve took a deep breath before he replied. “Yeah, I think so. My memory is a lot fresher than anyone else who was involved the first time around, so I can bring a different perspective. Peggy didn’t think I’d be asked to participate in any operations, but they might want me closer to the action.” He looked at Tony almost reassuringly. “This is different from what Howard wanted me to do.”

“Sounds like you’ve given it some thought, then.” Tony hoped Steve knew what he was getting into. “ When are you leaving?” 

“Tomorrow morning. I’ll take the train down.” Tony was disappointed that Steve was leaving so soon; he’d been looking forward to spending some time together over the weekend. 

“Want a ride to the station?”

“That’d be nice, Tony. Thanks.” 

 

He must be in love, Tony thought as they inched their way down 34th Street the next morning. Why else would he be up so early just to fight Manhattan traffic? 

“You didn’t have to do this,” Steve commented, as Tony swore at yet another taxi driver who had cut them off. 

“I know, but then you’d have been stuck in a cab, listening to who knows what music or talk radio crap instead of enjoying my extensive knowledge of vulgar terminology.” 

“I’m from Brooklyn and I was in the army, Tony. You’re a mere amateur when it comes to cursing. I coulda told that cabbie to go fuck himself in three different languages, four if you count Yiddish. No, wait - Italian makes five.” 

“Fair enough,” Tony laughed. “Just how multilingual are you?” He tried not to think about what Steve might sound like, whispering endearments (or talking dirty) in another language. 

“Not much at all, I mostly know simple stuff like ordering food, buying things or cursing people out. Bucky kept pestering Jonesy to teach him pickup lines in French and German, but he couldn’t ever get the accents right. Still managed to charm the ladies wherever we went, though. He and Howard were something else when it came to skirt-chasing.” Steve turned and gave him an assessing look. “How about you, Tony? What’s your secret for getting all the girls?”

“Mostly having a rich father seems to do it,” Tony answered wryly. “But I haven’t been out on any dates for a while.” 

“Why not?” The question seemed innocent enough, but there was no way he was going to give a completely truthful answer. 

“Busy with work, I guess. That and helping a pal get on his feet, ” he teased. 

“Sorry I’ve been cramping your style,” Steve apologized. 

“Not at all, Cap. The gossip rags tend to create mountains out of molehills. I’m not nearly the ladykiller I’m made out to be. Honestly, I’d rather spend an evening tinkering with Dum-E than at a flashy club or party.” Especially if I had you for company in the workshop, Tony mentally added. 

“Starting to get that idea. You’re not much like your father at all, are you?” 

“That’s the nicest thing anybody’s said to me all day.” Tony double-parked outside Penn Station. “Safe travels. Tell Peggy I said ‘hi’ and not to keep you too long.”

Steve got out, then came around the car to shake hands through the open window. Squeezing Tony’s shoulder, he said “Don’t do anything stupid ‘til I get back, okay?” There was an unreadable look on Steve’s face as he turned away. It was as if he had quoted something, something that required a reply that Tony didn’t know. But he did his best. 

“Define ‘stupid’, Rogers!” he called out as Steve blended into the crowd.

Tony joined his teammates, already hard at work. “Sorry I’m a little late. I was dropping off my roomie at Penn station.” 

“Oh, where’s he off to?” Nadia asked. 

“Visiting some friends in DC.”

“Just for the weekend?” 

“Nah - he’ll be gone for a week or so. Probably do some sight seeing. Heck, he’ll probably spend a big chunk of time just going through the Smithsonian museums. I know I would, given the chance.” 

And with these pleasantries exchanged, they settled into their tasks. The day went quickly, and they all made good progress. Tony decided to put his brand-new Y membership to good use. Maybe if he physically exhausted himself, he’d be able to sleep better. 

Clint was chatting with the front desk clerk when Tony checked in. “Hey, Tony! Steve get off to DC okay?”

“Yeah - dropped him off at the station this morning and he gave me a quick call when he got there. Sounded like he enjoyed the trip.” Tony personally would have flown, but seeing as what happened the last time Steve was in a plane, he couldn’t blame him for riding the rails instead. “He said it was actually pretty scenic and he got some sketching in along the way.” 

“Hope he enjoys his visit. I’ve got an Intro to Archery class starting in about 5 minutes - want to join us?” 

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m going to hit the climbing wall again.” Tony replied. He focused more on technique this time around. Without a partner to compete against, Tony took things more slowly, planning out his routes ahead of time and really looking before he leapt. By the time he was done, his forearms burned and his calves ached. But it was a good feeling, and he’d been able to clear his mind of all the thoughts whirling around his head, at least for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to ramp up for our boys in the next couple chapters... enjoy the calm moments while you can. 
> 
> As always, many thanks to @hddnone for their feedback and contributions to this chapter -- and thanks also to all you wonderful readers who have taken the time to click the kudos button and leave comments - they mean more to me than you know.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve finds a way to take care of Tony even while he's in DC and they have a nice chat. Clint invites Tony over for a meal and some bro-time, and then Tony gets a little nosy about one of Steve's projects. Finally, a bad dream gets worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my faithful WIP readers: if cliffhangers aren't your thing, come back this weekend when things will get worse, then better within a single chapter. Or wait an entire week for chapter 25 where things get better still (like, 'kissing parts' better).
> 
> But if you're impatient like me, buckle up and enjoy the ride!

Tony had worked up an appetite, but didn’t feel like sitting in a restaurant by himself; so he grabbed a couple of hot dogs from the cart on the corner on his way back home. He sat down at the computer, trying to decide whether to install and configure _Leather Goddesses of Phobos 2_ or _Wolfenstein 3D_. Neither of which were official releases, but he knew people in the business and occasionally got to beta test games. He couldn’t decide between the two and therefore was up til nearly three am. 

The phone rang much too early for a Saturday morning. “H’lo?” 

“Good morning, Tony,” It was Steve, sounding disgustingly awake and alert. “Just calling to let you know your coffee should be ready.” 

“Huh?” Tony then caught a whiff of fresh-brewed heaven. 

“I prepped everything and reset the timer to start the machine about 10 min ago,” Steve continued. Tony was touched that he had gone to such trouble -- not only to set it all up, but to make sure he called in a timely fashion. 

“You’re too good to me, Rogers,” he mumbled. 

“I don’t know about that,” Steve replied with a little laugh. “I better let you go enjoy a hot cup of joe. I’ll touch base later and let you know how things are going.” 

Tony shuffled out into the kitchen and sure enough, the coffee maker had just finished. There was a note sitting in front of it that read. “Make sure to reset the timer for Monday morning, or you’ll be in a world of hurt - S” But most of the page was taken up with a sketch of Tony himself, looking out of sorts as he glared literal daggers at an empty Mr. Coffee (that Steve had somehow made seem ashamed of itself) with little swear symbols floating over his head. 

The drawing had obviously taken some time, and Tony found himself humbled to be the recipient of such a gift. He’d definitely be framing it but decided to leave the note out as a reminder, first.

When Steve called that evening, Tony made sure to thank him first thing. “The sketch was amazing - and so was the coffee. Thank you - you’re an awesome roomie even when you’re not here.” And that was as close to saying ‘I miss you’ as he could let himself get. “Speaking of not being here, how are things in DC?” 

“Had a meeting with Peggy and Sam yesterday - he’s in on this operation as my liaison with the rest of the group. Guess it’s to keep me from accidentally blowing my cover, I guess.” He paused for a moment, then added in a flat voice, “Apparently Howard’s coming down on Monday - he wants to put his two cents in.” Steve obviously wasn’t happy about it, but seemed resigned to the fact. 

“Well, that’s going to be awkward,” Tony commented. 

“Yeah. I can’t say a whole lot more.” 

“Understood. Any idea whether you’ll be heading across the pond?” 

“That’s still up in the air. Sam invited me to stay with him and Miriam while I’m in town. He says hello.” 

“He’s good folk. They both are - I’m glad they got together. Guess you can indirectly take credit for that, Cap. Matchmaking in your sleep and all.” That got a little chuckle. 

“How about you, Tony? How’s your project at work?” 

“It’s going well. My teammates are kicking butt and taking names. We should have the initial draft of the proposal ready for Howard and Obie to sign off on by the end of the month.” 

“Great news - and I’m sure they’re just following your lead in terms of butt-kicking and name-taking.” It was kind of adorable to hear Steve trying to use modern slang. “I’ve got more sight-seeing planned for tomorrow. If you happen to run into Clint, tell him I’m not going to go into the US Mint and ask for a free sample, like he suggested.” 

Tony laughed. “You know, I think I like that guy! Enjoy another day of being a tourist before Peggy puts you back to work.”

“Will do. Talk to you later, Tony. Take care.” 

Late Sunday afternoon there was a knock on the door. Tony answered it to see Clint and Lucky. 

“Hey, guys - what’s up?” 

“I’m whipping up a big batch of my nona’s spaghetti and meatballs and thought I’d see if you were interested in joining me & Lucky for dinner. With Steve being out of town and all, I thought you might want to hang out.” Tony was a little surprised by the invite, but he was always up for Italian. 

“Sounds great - when should I come over?” 

“Well, I gotta take Lucky out for a bit, so I haven’t put the pasta on yet. Maybe in a half-hour or so?” Which worked out well as it gave Tony enough time to swing by the local bodega to pick up a little something as a host gift. 

“That sauce smells amazing!” Tony exclaimed as he walked into Clint’s apartment and handed over a bottle of wine. It wasn’t much, but his mother would have died of embarrassment if he’d arrived empty-handed. “What’s your recipe?” 

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you. Unless, you have food allergies or something and are afraid it might kill you instead,” Clint replied. “You don’t have a problem with oregano, or garlic, or anything, right?” 

“Nope, I’m good. I’ve got a nona of my own, so that stuff is in my blood. Hey, I wonder if she came from the same part of Italy that yours did?” That got them talking about their families. Tony didn’t think he had told Clint his full name when they’d met (‘Stark’ didn’t exactly sound Italian, after all), but it didn’t seem to matter. He honestly couldn’t tell if Clint didn’t know who he was, or just didn't care. Either way, it was kind of nice to be treated like a regular guy.

The spaghetti and meatballs was delicious, as was the garlic bread. Tony imagined his breath stank to high heaven, but since he was sleeping alone anyways, it didn’t matter. Lucky was surprisingly well-behaved; after being told to “lay down” only once, he stayed away from the two of them as they ate off of TV trays. “Didn’t bother getting a table, since it’s just me here most of the time.” Clint admitted. They’d cracked open the wine, and were both feeling a bit mellow.

“If I said something about the King of Pop, you’d know who I meant, right?” Clint said out of nowhere. 

“Yeah - Michael Jackson. Why do you ask?” 

“‘Cause when I mentioned him the other day, Steve acted like he didn’t know who in the world I was talking about. Even after I threw out the names of some of MJ’s songs, referenced the Jackson 5, even did a little bit of a moonwalk, and nothing. Is it just me, or is that a little weird? 

“Yeah, but you see,” Tony hedged, “I think Steve was a pretty sheltered kid. Didn’t have a television growing up, listened to a lot of old-timey radio and stuff like that. I’m working on getting him up to speed. Would you believe he hadn’t even seen _Star Wars_?” 

“That poor, deprived child!” Clint replied, shaking his head in disbelief. How about Star Trek? He’s gotta know,” and he held up one hand in a Vulcan salute, “‘Live Long and Prosper’.”

“Working on that too. I think he kind of digs the original series.” Lucky came over and with a quiet ‘woof’ demanded some of Clint’s attention. 

“Hey boy, you feeling ignored?” As he gave the dog a brisk full-body pet, Clint glanced over at Tony. “You know, Steve talks about you a lot. Seems to think you’re something special.” 

“Really?” Tony didn’t know what to do with that information. “Well, like I just said, he doesn’t get out much.” Deflecting with humor had always been his strongest coping skill, but Clint fixed him with a look that made Tony feel that he was the target of one of his arrows. 

“Steve told me that you’re a genius who’s going to save the world someday and that you’re twice the man your father is. He also said that you really stuck out your neck for him when he needed it.” 

Tony felt himself turning a bit red. “It wasn’t much. He’s had a rough time, and I’m just helping him get back on his feet. Despite his deplorable lack of pop culture knowledge, Steve’s a really smart, talented guy. He’s the one who’s gonna be saving the world,” and Tony had to bite his tongue to not add the word ‘again’. 

“Sounds like you think he’s something special, too.” 

“He is,” Under that piercing gaze, Tony found it very difficult to lie. “Trust me, he really is.” Tony found himself explaining about how Steve had prepped the coffee for him before heading to DC, finishing with “Let me show you the note he left.” Tony ran down the hall to fetch the sketch and brought it back to Clint, who examined it carefully. He then looked at Tony with a quirked eyebrow. 

“But you’re ‘just friends’,” Clint observed skeptically. Tony realized what their situation, their relationship must look like to an outsider. But it wasn’t like that at all, no matter how badly he wanted otherwise.

“What else would we be?” Tony trusted that his poker face, developed after years of dealing with his father, would hold. After a moment, Clint broke off, shaking his head with a small laugh. 

“None of my damn business.” He reached over to offer an apologetic handshake, which Tony accepted with a nod. “Sorry, figuring people out is kind of my hobby. Harmless when it’s fellow passengers on the subway; less so when it’s neighbors I’d like to be friends with. My bad for being nosy.” 

“S’ok,” Tony could see how Clint had jumped to that conclusion. “I’m more into figuring out machines than people, but I understand the urge.” He noticed the videotape boxes sitting on the TV. “Did you pick up anything good to watch?” 

“Depends on your definition of ‘good’. I was in the mood for some Kurt Russell action and rented _Big Trouble in Little China_.”

“Oh, that’s just my kind of good! Pop it in!” 

After the movie finished, Tony took Clint down to show off his basement workshop. It was still a work in progress, but he’d finally gotten Dum-E’s charging unit wired up. Just in time, as his poor ‘bot was just about out of juice. 

“Did you run all this by the ‘super, Tony? I’m not sure this building is zoned for mad scientist labs.” Clint asked, staring at the equipment with a mix of awe and concern. Tony hadn’t even unpacked his tesla coil yet. 

“I checked the wiring and grounding for the building before I signed the lease,” Tony reassured him. “I’m paying a premium for this space and the extra power demands, admittedly, but it keeps me off the streets and out of trouble.” 

“Okay, Tony, but count me out if you need an assistant.” Clint teased. 

“Fair enough. Besides, you don’t even have a hump.” 

“‘Hump? What hump?’” Clint quoted, making his best Marty Feldman face. “Now walk this way, Mr. Fronkensteen.” 

As Tony stepped into the living room of the apartment, Steve’s easel caught his eye. He shouldn’t look. That was something personal; something Steve obviously wasn’t ready to share. But Tony’s sense of curiosity, quite possibly bolstered by the wine, won out over his sense of propriety. 

He turned on a light, and carefully pulled back the drop cloth. The background of the canvas was all whites and greys in thick diagonal brush strokes, forming the slightest suggestion of mountains and valleys. A ragged rectangle of black jutted out at an angle from the right side of the canvas with a thin, broken silver line etched across it. And at the bottom left, almost off the canvas, a small prussian blue smudge. It was bleak and chilling yet strangely compelling. Steve had clearly poured a lot of emotion into this work, and it definitely told a story, even if that story wasn’t meant for him. Tony carefully put back the drop cloth and started getting ready for bed. 

They had taken Steve, and Tony had tracked them down. He’d fought his way into their stronghold (he didn’t remember fighting, just the fact that he had) and was somehow certain that the door at the end of the hallway was where they were holding Steve. He burst through the door to see Steve in chains, bleeding and battered. Steve raised his head and cried out, “No, Tony, it’s a trap!” He heard an ominous sound, some piece of equipment powering up. He turned to see a dark figure holding a terrible weapon with an evil glow at its heart. It was aimed right at Steve, and before he could say or do anything, the weapon fired and Steve was gone. 

Tony jolted awake, still sitting at the table where he’d sat down for just a moment to gather the papers he’d been working on over the weekend. He must really be tired, to fall asleep that easily. His fingers itched to call Steve, to make sure he was really okay. That it had only been a bad dream, not a portent. 

But it had been so life-like, such a vivid nightmare, that a few days later, when Tony awoke to feel hands grabbing at him, he thought for an instant that he was simply dreaming again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: Many Thanks to the wonderful smolsofa for the fanart of Steve's sketch! It's even better than what I had envisioned! 
> 
> As always, feel free to come yell at me over on [ Tumblr](http://polizwrites.tumblr.com/) or right here in the comments. 
> 
> I feel like I'm building things up a bunch, but dammit, this next chapter was a real challenge for me. I just hope y'all like it as much as my beta and I did. See you this weekend...


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is ambushed by sinister strangers in his own room. The attempted kidnapping fails, and secret identities are revealed.

“What the fuck?!” 

Someone had seized his arms in the dark, and at least one other person was attempting to hold him down. As Tony fought and swore, still not sure what was real and what wasn’t, one of his attackers backhanded him. 

“Such language. We really must do something about that.” Tony’s jaw was held closed and a strip of duct tape was pressed across his mouth. Someone grabbed his hair and dragged him up into a sitting position. His arms were wrenched around behind his back, and he felt cold metal click around his wrists. 

Step One, Tony thought: Don’t Panic. He was doing an okay job of that so far. Step Two: Assess the Situation. There were at least two and possibly three of them. Based on the accent of the speaker, they might be Russian or Eastern European. The slap seemed intended to intimidate more than anything, as if they didn’t consider him that much of a threat. They’d expected some resistance (cuffs and duct tape) but hadn’t pulled out any weapons yet. Step Three: Cooperate. Yeah, he always had trouble with Step Three. 

He continued to thrash and struggle, putting those self-defense moves once again to good use. He wasn’t averse to fighting dirty, either; Tony grinned behind the tape as he landed a good, solid kick to the crotch on one of them.There was a satisfying “Oof” and a crash as the goon landed against the dresser and curled into a ball. 

But then there was the barrel of a gun pressed against his thigh. “We were instructed not to kill you, but nothing was said about damaged goods.” said the man wielding the gun in an eerily calm voice. Tony couldn’t tell how close the shot would come to his femoral artery, and bleeding out was definitely high on his list of Ways Not to Die. He reluctantly stopped fighting, and let them drag him out of bed. So, Step Three it was. 

A woman was waiting for them in the living room. Dressed all in black, she wore a scarf that covered her head and most of her face, a cross between a ninja mask and a middle-eastern veil. As they entered the room, she was tucking away a stray lock of hair; Tony caught a brief glimpse of auburn between her fingers. It wasn’t a good sign that the men weren’t masked. Either they weren’t worried about law enforcement being able to identify them once they set him free, or they didn’t plan on Tony having the opportunity to identify them after the fact. Step One was suddenly a lot more difficult to keep in mind. 

The man with the gun (who Tony labeled as Moe - the others were Larry, Curly and Miss Mask for now) kept it pressed to Tony’s leg, while holding his arm in an iron grip. After a brief discussion between the four of them, in what he was pretty sure was Russian after all, Miss Mask left the apartment, probably to act as lookout. 

“You will behave yourself and come with us, Tony Stark. If you and your father cooperate, you will not be harmed.” He’d heard that before. Tony wondered how much money he was worth now; but then again, if they were Russian, it was more likely that they were going after SI intel - military information and specifications. Good luck with that, guys. Howard Stark is a stubborn bastard, and a patriotic stubborn bastard at that. 

They left the apartment, Tony still in sock feet, and headed toward the stairwell. He had noticed the Wet Paint signs on the stairwell doors earlier in the day and realized it was probably their doing; a clever way to keep people out of your escape route. Larry was in the lead, and Moe followed Tony, with Curly bringing up the rear. As Miss Mask was nowhere in sight, Tony assumed that she’d gone on ahead. 

Tony considered kicking his neighbor’s door as they passed by, hoping to wake up Lucky and therefore Clint. But the gun that Moe now had pressed to his upper shoulder gave him pause. Again, it presumably wouldn’t be a fatal wound if the bullet missed the main arteries to his head and neck, but not worth trying any funny stuff. Besides, it wouldn’t be right to bring his unsuspecting friend into this mess. 

They had to move slowly down the stairs as Tony and Moe were more or less Siamese twins, joined at the lethal weapon. They had only made it down a single floor when Moe’s walkie-talkie crackled to life. Tony assumed it was their lookout checking in. She spoke a word or two, and then there was the sound of a scuffle, and it disconnected. Tony didn’t know if that was a good sign for him or not. But it made his his captors pick up their pace a little.

Moe and Tony were about three steps down from the last landing when the knob of the ground floor door turned. Moe moved his gun from Tony’s shoulder to aim at the door, flicking the safety off in the process. Goddamnit, why hadn’t Tony noticed that before? He might have tried something stupid after all. Larry had stopped on the last step of the stairs and pulled out a wicked-looking knife. Tony couldn’t see Curly, but assumed he was armed as well. 

As the door opened, Tony really hoped it was just their lookout; the thought that an innocent bystander might get killed as a result of his situation made him ill. Tony was shocked to see it was Steve standing there, watchful and wary. His timing was both perfect and terrible. 

“Hey! Who are you? What are you doing with him?” Steve demanded. He glanced at Tony, who shook his head the tiniest bit. Don’t do this, Steve, he mentally pleaded. I’ll be okay. I’ll figure it out. Don’t take the risk. 

“Be on your way, citizen. This does not concern you.” Moe commanded. 

“The fuck it doesn’t,” Steve growled in reply. He charged toward them, bringing up his shield from where it had been concealed behind the door. 

Gunshots and ricochets filled the air as Tony hooked a foot behind Moe’s leg, pulling it sharply forward to force his captor off balance. At the same time, Tony threw himself backwards onto Moe, turning slightly to sink an elbow into the other guy’s gut and a shoulder into his chest, knocking the air out of him. Finally, Tony headbutted Moe, knocking the goon’s skull back into the concrete landing. One asshole down. 

He and Moe had landed hard, but Tony was already rolling off the man and getting to his feet. Curly came down the stairs just in time for Tony to hit him in the knees with a shoulder, throwing the man off balance and down the stairs. Off-balance himself, Tony then toppled backwards into the wall, hitting his head hard on the handrail. The world went black for a moment as he sagged down onto the landing. 

Then Steve was there, lifting him to his feet. “Oh god, Tony, are you okay?” His face was full of fear and concern as he patted Tony down, checking for injuries. Tony nodded, not the smartest thing to do when you probably had a concussion. Suddenly dizzy, he leaned heavily into Steve, who held him close. Tony glanced down the stairwell, to see three motionless bodies, unconscious or perhaps dead. He couldn’t tell and maybe didn’t want to know. 

“Let’s take care of these first.” Reaching behind him, Steve pulled the handcuffs apart as if they were connected by a bit of wet string. Tony wiggled his fingers and weakly shook his hands. He could have Steve wield a hacksaw or try to pick the locks later to get the shackles themselves off.

Steve then reached up to Tony’s face, towards the tape. Tony frantically shook his head, making a negative “Nuh-uh!” sound. He couldn’t handle any more pain, any more anything at the moment. The adrenaline was still coursing through his system, setting every nerve end on alert. Everything was suddenly too bright, too loud, too much. He pressed his face into Steve’s shoulder to block it all out, if only for a moment. 

“Okay,” Steve said gently, placing one hand low on Tony’s back, the other cradling his head. Tony felt something wet on his cheek. He pulled away from Steve and wiped at it -- his fingers came away red. Either he or Steve was bleeding, or maybe both of them. He stepped back and saw the angry red furrow across Steve’s shoulder. The idiot had got himself shot. Tony made a muffled exclamation and pressed his hand to the wound to stop the bleeding. It was all his fault, he was so sorry, he’d never meant Steve to get involved -- the thoughts whirled uncontrollably through his head and he started hyperventilating. 

“Tony, it’s alright. Super-soldier serum, remember? It’ll heal up in a day or two. Promise.” He pulled Tony back to him and stroked his hair in a soothing gesture. “Breathe with me now, champ.” Steve took deep, slow breaths and Tony tried his best to imitate him. 

“So, what the hell is all this?” a voice called down. They looked up to see Clint peering over the railing as he came down the stairs. 

Steve loosened his hold on Tony as he replied, “These guys were trying to kidnap Tony, and we ... stopped them.” Tony distanced himself a bit from Steve -- no reason to give their neighbor any further misguided ideas -- and leaned back against the railing for support. But Steve’s hand still rested on his back, his palm radiating warmth into Tony’s aching muscles.

Clint surveyed the scene as he stepped onto the landing, his gaze lingering on a dark puddle beneath one of the bodies. “Looks like you might have stopped ‘em a bit permanent-like.”   
His eyes narrowed as he saw Tony’s face and the remains of the handcuffs. “Olive oil will help loosen up the stickum on that duct tape. Make it a lot less painful to remove. And I might have a key that will work on those cuffs.” Tony was confounded by Clint’s reaction. It was almost like he was used to having his neighbors getting assaulted or something. And the handcuff key comment made him wonder about Clint’s extracurricular activities.

The sound of another stairwell door opening caught their attention. “Everything’s under control. Cops have already been called,” Clint yelled out, and the door closed. “Not sure how long that’s going to keep our nosy neighbors off our backs, Captain. I better call for a cleanup crew.” 

Tony blinked in astonishment as Steve carefully asked, “Wait. Did you just say what I thought you said?” 

Clint at least had the sense to look a bit ashamed. “Well shit ... guess I did. It was gonna come out eventually anyways.” He made a quick salute. “Agent Clint Barton of SHIELD, at your service, Captain Rogers.” He took another look around the stairwell. “And I’m gonna get my ass chewed out for not spotting these guys ahead of time. Wonder if your trip to DC had anything to do with this.” 

Tony nearly ripped the duct tape off his face in frustration. It wasn’t Steve’s fault, he had nothing to do with it. The goon squad wanted something out of Stark Industries, or his father and hadn’t said a word about Steve. His frantic hand gestures and muffled words as he tried to explain were less than successful.

“Okay, okay...calm down, We’ll get this all figured out, Tony. You don’t have to worry about them making a second try, I promise. ” Clint said, misreading Tony’s agitation. “How about you two head back upstairs and get cleaned up? I’ll talk with you once my backup gets here.” 

Steve seemed both too tired and too taken aback by Clint’s reveal of his SHIELD association to argue, and Tony was certainly in no position to voice his own objections. Clint kicked none-too-gently at one of the fallen goons, who stirred and made a low moan. “Lookee there. We might be able to squeeze some info out of these guys after all.” 

“There’s another one of them in the lobby. I hated to knock her out, but she pulled a gun on me.” Steve pulled a pistol out from his waistband, unloaded it and handed it over to Clint, butt-first. 

“You were busy, weren’t you, Captain?” Clint replied with an admiring look. “I’ll make sure this gets mopped up. Now go and take care of each other.” 

Back at the apartment, Tony sat on the couch while Steve rummaged in the kitchen cabinet. They followed Clint’s advice and applied olive oil generously to the duct tape. It smelled weird and felt gross, but after just a minute or two, Tony was able to start teasing the edge away from his face with minimal damage. Once it was peeled completely off, Tony took a deep breath. 

“Holy shit, that was annoying!” He rubbed gingerly at his poor, abused face while Steve stared at him in shock. 

“For fuck’s sake, Tony!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air as he paced restlessly across the living room. “You almost got kidnapped! You could have been shot or stabbed or hit by a ricochet and you’re complaining about a shitty piece of tape?” 

“Oh, give me another five minutes and I’ll be a quivering mess, but the adrenaline hasn’t worn off quite yet,” Tony explained, as he wiped at his face with a damp towel. “Clint was wrong -- it wasn’t you they were after at all, Steve. They wanted something from Howard. Maybe military intel, maybe weapons. I don’t think they had any idea who you were.” 

“I don’t give a damn why they were here, Tony!” Steve countered fiercely. “The mere fact that they were able to break in and grab you...” He pounded a fist into his palm. “If I’d stayed another night with Sam and Miriam, hell, if I’d missed the bus from the train station... you’d have been gone.” His voice got all shaky on those last few words, and then he was down on his knees in front of the couch, holding Tony again. But this time, instead of offering comfort to Tony, it was as if he were seeking comfort from him, a reassurance that Tony was there, really was okay. 

Tony returned the embrace wholeheartedly He hadn’t been joking about turning into a quivering mess; all the terror and panic he’d carefully set aside was rearing its ugly head. He waited for the uncontrollable shivers, the quick shallow breaths, the pounding heart. But Steve’s presence was so calming, so grounding that Tony found that the wave of hysteria that had threatened to engulf him slowly ebbed away instead. They were going to be alright, as long as they had each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!! Gosh - I hope this lived up to the hype. 
> 
> I've been working on this chapter for weeks, planning it out in my mind before committing it to paper, then with @hddnone and @tisfan's help, whipping it into shape. 
> 
> And as you can probably tell - kissing is just around the corner!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint makes a brief visit to check on Steve and Tony. Tony doesn't want to sleep alone, and Steve does as Tony wishes. Reassurance after a nightmare leads to confessions and affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a day early to celebrate my birthday - after 24 chapters and over 47 thousand words - THEY FINALLY KISS!

Tony had nearly nodded off when he heard a tap on the door, which then swung open. Neither he nor Steve had thought to lock it behind them.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Clint was cautiously stepping into the apartment, holding what looked like an EMT kit in one hand and Steve’s shield in the other. “but I thought you might need a bit of first aid. I know you got hit at least once, Rogers. Also figured you wouldn’t want to leave this lying around.” He leaned the shield up against the wall just inside the door. 

Steve slowly got up and sat on the couch, while Tony moved to a nearby chair to give Clint room to work. Clint opened the kit as he gestured for Steve to remove his shirt. In addition to the gunshot wound, there was a slash low across Steve’s stomach that made Tony gasp. That fucking Larry. 

“I’m fine, Tony,” Steve reassured him, despite wincing a bit when Clint dabbed at it with an antiseptic wipe. “I’ve had worse, even before the serum. Usually my own damn fault.” That didn’t help at all, thinking of a shrimpy kid whose health was already questionable having been injured so badly. “Used to give Bucky fits, when he found out I’d gotten in another scrap.” 

“I can’t say I blame him, Cap.” Tony answered grimly, clasping his hands tightly together. 

After Clint cleaned and bandaged Steve’s wounds, working quickly and professionally, he turned to Tony. “How about you, Tony?” 

“Just some scrapes and bruises, but I hit my head pretty hard at one point.” Clint took a flashlight out of the kit and shone it into Tony’s eyes. Tony flinched away and suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He stumbled to the kitchen sink, grasping the edge tightly as he bent over, but then the feeling faded. 

“Light sensitivity and nausea -- pretty good indicators for a concussion there, Sparky. Can I look at your eyes again?” This time Tony and his stomach kept still. He listened to Clint’s instructions, watching him move a finger back and forth, up and down. “Well, your pupils are contracting okay and your eyes track just fine, but there’s still a danger,” Clint concluded. “If you start slurring your speech, feel sick again, or have balance problems, you should go to the hospital . Now, let me check the rest of you over and get those bracelets off.” 

After Clint unlocked the cuffs, he confirmed that Tony had been telling the truth and had only minor abrasions and contusions. Then he filled them in on the results of their adventure. “Good news - only one of the goon squad checked all the way out, and from what we can tell, it was self-inflicted. The other three will be going to the local hospital under guard to get patched up. Once they’re in good enough shape to talk, we’ll find out exactly what they were up to.” 

Tony mentioned Moe’s comment about getting his father to cooperate and shared his theory that they were after military intel. After chuckling at the nicknames Tony had given his assailants, Clint nodded thoughtfully. “Huh - makes sense. I’ll definitely pass that along. Now, you two get some well-deserved rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” 

On his way out, Clint bent to examine the lock and doorframe. “Did you replace the locks when you moved in?” 

“It’s a brand new place, you know that. Didn’t figure we had to. Why?” Tony replied. 

“Assuming you locked the door, either they had a hell of a lockpicker, or it was some sort of inside job - I’m not seeing any scratches around the keyhole. I’ll check the downstairs entry points as well. In the meanwhile, you might want to have a talk with your realtor. Good night.” Great, there was another loose thread that his brain would be picking at for the conceivable future. Tony had one more thing to attend to; he shuffled through some papers on his desk to find the project admin’s desk phone number and then picked up the phone. 

“Hello, this is Tony Stark. Please inform Ms. Potts and Ms. Roman that I will not be into work tomorrow and quite possibly not til Monday. Mr. Stane knows how to reach me if there’s an emergency. Thank you.” He was not looking forward to telling his father about tonight. Maybe if he said ‘pretty please’, Clint would do it for him. He looked over at the couch, where Steve had stretched out and quite possibly fallen asleep. An excellent idea. 

But as soon as Tony entered his bedroom, the wave of panic welled back up. It started with the general disarray of the room -- not that he was a neatnik to start with -- and intensified when he caught a whiff of the nasty cologne that one of the goons had doused himself with. Combined with the fear sweat that had drenched his own shirt and dried stiffly against his skin, the stench was overwhelming. 

Tony tore off the stinking, blood-stained tee -- not even his own blood, it was Steve’s, that he’d shed for Tony -- and threw it in the corner before sliding down the doorframe and wrapping his arms around his knees. Despite the summer warmth, he was shivering, and the nausea was starting to creep back in. 

“Tony? What’s wrong?” Steve got up from the couch, came over and crouched down next to him, carefully teasing one hand loose and cradling it in his own. 

“I can’t... can’t sleep in there. Not tonight.” It sounded stupid and childish when he said it out loud, but that didn’t make it any less true. 

“That’s fine,” Steve replied, calm and reassuring. “But you need to sleep.” 

“We both do.” And it was on the tip of his tongue to just simply ask. It wasn’t anything new, they’d slept in the same bed for a week and nothing had happened. Nothing could happen, he knew that. He just didn’t want to be alone. 

“You’re right. C’mere.” Steve stood and tugged on Tony’s hand, helping him to his feet. He led Tony to his room and to his bed, pulling back the covers. “Get some rest, champ. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

As he turned away, Tony gathered the last bits of courage he could muster. “Don’t go.” 

Steve stopped and turned, saying with a slow smile. “As you wish.” Tony knew he hadn’t shown Steve _The Princess Bride_ ; he couldn’t know what that meant. It was a common turn of phrase, that was all. Steve sat on the side of the bed as Tony got in, then stretched out on top the covers. 

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmm.” Tony was too exhausted for Steve’s presence to be anything but a comfort. But not enough of one, as his overworked brain served up a hellbrew of images and sensations not even coherent enough to be considered a nightmare.

Tony woke up gasping and trembling, but Steve was already speaking softly and slowly, holding him close and stroking his hair. “It’s okay, Tony. You’re safe. I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m right here. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” 

Tony froze, then carefully commented, “The concussion must be making me hallucinate, because I’m pretty sure you didn’t actually say what I thought you just said.” 

“Yeah, I did, Tony.” A muscle jumped in Steve’s jaw as he swallowed hard. “And even if it changes everything between us, I have to confess. I’ve been in love with you since I finally saw you for the first time.” Well, if he were hallucinating, Tony thought, he couldn’t have asked for a better fantasy. 

“It was like I was lost in a dark, cold void,” Steve continued, “But then I heard a voice, kind and warm. It was your voice, Tony, and I followed it like a lifeline. You told me over and over that I’d been rescued. That I was safe and being cared for. You told me about all the things we’d do once I was up and around. Every word you said, every page you read to me, it gave me a reason to fight the nightmares and the pain.” 

“Pain?” Tony’s head was spinning as he tried to absorb Steve’s words. What he’d gone through, what he had felt, was feeling. Tony’s heart broke a little even as it soared. 

“Yeah, like pins and needles all over, with an ache deep in my bones. It came and went, like the nightmares. But you were always there to help me through. And once I woke up and finally saw the man who’d brought me back from purgatory? I was head over heels in an instant.” Steve’s smile was small, but drew Tony in like a moth to a flame. 

“Then that makes two of us, sunshine.” And without thinking twice, he drew Steve into a kiss. It wasn’t his best effort, between his abused lips, the awkward angle and their combined morning breath. Plus he’d definitely caught Steve by surprise. But even with all that, it was damn near perfect. 

“Tony, what --” Steve pulled back, confusion and elation mingling in his voice. 

“I’ve been so focused on keeping my own feelings for you hidden, Steve, that I never saw, never realized, and am still not sure I believe that you are as gone for me as I am for you.” Tony quickly confessed. God, that felt so good to get off his chest. 

“Though to be fair,” he continued, “I did have a headstart on the whole infatuation thing, like, going on for years now. Turns out you’re even more amazing in person. What I’m trying to say is this: Steven Grant Rogers, I am madly, desperately and completely in love with you.” 

“Really?” And before Tony could reply, Steve was pulling him in for another kiss. While the first had been brief, chaste and a little clumsy, this kiss seemed to last and last, gradually growing in intensity, with their lips fitting together seamlessly. Steve was cradling the back of his head, and Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck as if he never wanted to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chorus of "it's about damned time" fills my ears and cheers my soul. Thank you all for your patience - I hope you've enjoyed the ride so far, but we're not done yet. 
> 
> Please note: this fic will stay Teen rated -- any serious hanky-panky will stay offscreen. I've added a "No Smut" tag to let everyone know up front. That said, the potential for steamy one shots exists and, if they happen, will be linked to from the main narrative.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony share some pillow talk about their mutual pining before sleeping (mostly just sleeping) together. In the morning, Agent Barton holds a debrief session and Lucky is a Good Dog.

But all too soon, Steve had broken off the kiss. “Wait... Tony.. I don’t understand ... all those women, you’re not...” Steve was sitting up now, his confusion even more apparent. 

“Not gay, Steve?” Tony replied, rising to a seated position as well. “True, I do have more experience with women -- tho not as much as everyone seems to think -- but I like men, too. I gotta say, though, even after Aunt Peggy mentioned Christopher, I didn’t figure I had a chance with you.” 

“Wait, what did she say? I only told her...” Steve’s flustered blush was adorable. 

“She’s a spy, Steve, and a smart lady. Whatever you said was evidently enough for her to draw conclusions. She somehow knew I was sweet on you long before I said anything to her. When I finally ‘fessed up, she said she admired my taste in men.” That got a gentle laugh from Steve. “Then she told me to keep my eyes open and follow my heart.” He’d done a lousy job of following her advice, but everything seemed to be working out anyways. 

“Peg must’ve caught on to me pretty quick too, now that I think about it,” Steve admitted. “She told me not to wait too long if I found someone I cared about. But I almost did. I almost lost you, Tony.” Steve held him close again, as if he never wanted to let go. 

“‘Almost’ only counts in horseshoes and handgrenades. Now, come join me under the covers already.”

Steve flushed brick red as he scooted back a little, “Uh, Tony, I don’t think... it might not...” he stuttered. 

He’d done it again, foot in mouth, Tony thought. With his ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ reputation, of course Steve had misinterpreted the invitation. “That came out wrong, sunshine - hanky panky is not on my agenda any time soon. I just wanted to have you close to me.” 

Steve’s smile was soft and tender as he replied, “As you wish ... buttercup.” The glint of amusement in his eye gave it away. 

“Son of a bitch,” Tony exclaimed. “One of my top ten favorite films of all time and I wasn’t there the first time you saw it. Tell me, did you just stumble across it or did Mirrie show it to you? She’s such a meddler. Well, at least now I can openly ogle Cary Elwes in front of you,” he grumbled. He took sharing good movies seriously, dammit. 

“Westley? He’s good-lookin’ enough, I suppose, but Inigo Montoya was more my type, with his dark, curly hair and that mustache.” Steve’s amused grin as he pulled back the blankets made Tony break out in a smile himself. 

“Well, I don’t think I’d be nearly that vindictive if someone were to murder my father.” Tony commented, turning on his side to face Steve, now only a few inches away. “So, Handsome -- what’s a guy like you doing in a bed like this?” 

“Trying to convince my fella to go to sleep already.” Steve stretched his arm under the pillows to nestle Tony close. “Don’t make me sing a lullaby.” And while Tony suspected he had quite a nice singing voice, he let Steve’s heartbeat and quiet breathing lull him to sleep instead. 

Tony startled awake when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Shh. It’s just me, sweetheart,” Steve reassured, brushing a kiss against Tony’s cheek. “Be right back.” So it hadn’t been a dream. The floor creaked a bit as Steve left the room, and Tony stretched and yawned, curling back on his side. Steve rejoined him a few minutes later, just as he had started to drift back to sleep. 

“Told you I wouldn’t be gone long.” He lay close to Tony so they were spooning just a bit. And while the skin-on-skin contact between his back and Steve’s chest did kindle a certain amount of physical interest, it was the feeling of comfort, of completeness that made Tony’s heart skip a beat. 

“Missed you,” Tony mumbled. 

“Missed you too. Best night of sleep I’ve had since we moved in.” 

“I’m not surprised,” Tony commented. “Fighting a buncha armed thugs tends to take it out of you.” Steve’s chuckle reverberated through both their bodies. 

“I only had to deal with the lookout and the point man, Tony. You took down the other two, and did that shoeless and handcuffed. I’m glad you’re on my side.” Tony ducked his head in embarrassment. “But that’s not what I meant,” Steve continued. “I missed sleeping with you, darlin’. Even if I couldn’t touch or hold you, having you near meant everything was going to be okay. That I was home.” And with that confession, Tony couldn’t help but turn and seek out Steve’s lips again. 

The phone ringing was both an unwelcome intrusion and an unexpected ally, as the rush of need that had filled Tony’s body was encouraging some unwise behavior. Not that Steve seemed to be objecting; if anything, his responses were downright welcoming. But Tony refused to let his urges carry things too far, too fast. 

“I’d better get that, sunshine,” Tony said, disentangling himself from Steve, who made a little growl of frustration. That growl nearly sent him right back to bed, but dammit, he had to be responsible for once. Besides, he caught a whiff of the coffee that Steve had apparently started earlier, which pulled him out into the living room. 

“Hello?”

“Tony? It’s Clint. I’m gonna need you and Steve to make a statement about the events of last night as part of my report. Can you guys be ready to come over in, say, a half an hour?” 

“Um, yeah. Sure. I’ll let him know.” 

“Thanks. Talk to you then.” 

Tony fixed two mugs of java and brought them back into the bedroom. “I know you don’t usually drink coffee but I wondered if this morning might be an exception.” 

Steve sat up and took one of the mugs. “Thanks. Who was on the phone?” 

“Clint -- he needs a statement from us about last night’s escapades. He wants us to come over in about a half-hour, so we’d better get moving.” 

“Is that so?” Steve’s voice had gone hard. “Well, I have a few things I’d like to get off my chest with Agent Barton.” And in one smooth movement, Steve was up out of the bed and stalking towards the bathroom. Tony didn’t quite understand what had just happened, but he was just a little turned on by Steve’s reaction. 

Steve hadn’t wasted much time in the shower -- possibly a remnant from his days in the service -- but Tony found himself dawdling, letting the hot water course over him. While it was a relief to wash the last remnants of the previous night off himself, he wasn’t looking forward to having to relive the events, even just verbally. Steve was practically standing at attention near the door, not quite scowling, but definitely not his normal, affable self. Tony wondered what he’d done to upset him; but instead, Steve reached out a hand to Tony as he approached, his expression softening. “Let’s go get this over with, champ.” 

At their knock, Clint opened the door with an apologetic look. “Sorry to bother you guys, but the sooner I can get this report done, the sooner everything gets back to normal.” 

“Oh really, Agent Barton?” Steve spat in reply. “Let’s get one thing clear first. I do not appreciate being spied on and having the wool pulled over my eyes. Put that down at the very top of your report to Director Carter. I expected better of her, but apparently she’s changed just as much as Stark has.” 

“Whoa, hold on there, Steve,” Clint said, hands out in a calming, placating gesture. “While I would be honored and flattered to take on any assignment the former Director would see fit to assign me, she had nothing to do with this. This was supposed to be a side gig, a favor for a friend. When my buddy Wilson found out I was doing a stakeout ops in this part of the city, he asked me to keep an eye on you guys, offer a hand if you needed it. Filled me in on what was going on, your ‘secret identities’, so to speak. I needed a place to stay anyways, and these apartments looked pretty nice, so I moved in. Two birds, one stone, as the saying goes. ” 

Tony shrugged. So Wilson had asked a SHIELD buddy of his to do a bit of surveillance, big deal. Maybe Howard’s paranoia had rubbed off on him a little. It wasn’t anything new for Tony. After all, Howard had sent PIs to sniff around after him the whole time he and Rhodey lived in Boston. When he called Pops out on it, Howard had claimed they were ‘for his protection’, but Tony knew better. They were to keep tabs on him; make sure he wasn’t dragging the family name through the mud. He didn’t imagine Wilson cared about any of that, though. He seemed to genuinely like Steve and probably just wanted to make sure he was doing okay. 

Steve hung his head a bit, and coughed in embarrassment. “Well, I still don’t appreciate the cloak and dagger stuff. You could have just said you were pals with Sam.” He held out his hand to Clint, who accepted it in apology. 

“Yeah, well, guess it’s a hard habit to break.” Clint led them over to the couch; he’d set up one of the tv trays with a tape recorder. “Anyways, what it boils down to is that while I know who you are, Cap, these folks,” and Clint tapped the recorder, “probably don’t. So you’ll just be identified as Steve Rogers, Tony Stark’s roommate. I won’t ask questions about how you know each other or anything, which should keep things simple. Ready?”

Clint interviewed Tony first, and while he tried to stay composed and stick to just the facts, it was difficult to not get transported back into the moment. He started fidgeting, and was just about to reach for Steve’s hand (no matter what Clint might think) when Lucky padded over and dropped his head down on Tony’s knee. 

The mutt looked up at Tony, and between his upraised eyes and the slow wag of his tail, the message of “Please pet me” came through loud and clear. Tony ran his fingers through the thick fur of Lucky’s ruff, then scritched behind his ear as he continued to talk. Lucky leaned heavily against Tony’s leg and it was somehow calming. “And that’s about the time you showed up, Agent Barton. Any more questions?” he finished. 

“I think that’s all, Mr. Stark. Thank you. Now, Mr. Rogers, how did you become involved in the situation?” Tony listened, still petting Lucky, as Steve told his part of the story. He started with coming back to the apartment building and seeing a stranger pacing in the lobby. When he approached her and asked if he could help her, she responded she was just waiting for someone. 

“There was something just the slightest bit off about her,” Steve mused. “Nothing I could quite put my finger on, though. I saw the ‘Wet Paint’ sign on the stairwell door, but I figured the paint would be dry by that time of night - it was going on midnight. When I headed that direction, she intercepted me, and we actually argued a bit about whether I should use the stairwell!”

“Why didn’t you just use the elevator, Mr. Rogers?” 

“I don’t like elevators,” Steve replied flatly. Tony had noticed that before, Steve always taking the stairs, but hadn’t thought to question why. 

“So when I told her I appreciated her concern, but to please move out of my way, she tapped her ear, then pulled out a gun, which seemed like an overreaction. I tried to take the gun, we fought a bit and eventually, I decked her.” 

Clint paused the recorder and asked skeptically, “Eventually? The woman we have in custody is only about five foot two, and maybe a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. And you’re... what? A six two, two hundred pound super soldier?” 

A little abashed and defensive, Steve answered, “She took me by surprise. Besides, she was damned quick, and tough as nails. Could take a punch like Jolting Joe. Throw them, too, even if she didn’t have much weight behind them.” He rubbed his cheek, where Tony had noticed a bruise the night before. Clint raised an eyebrow, but turned the recorder back on. 

“Once she was down,” Steve continued, “I figured I’d better find out what was going on in the stairwell, as it was obviously something she didn’t want me to see.” He then went on to describe the fight in the stairwell from his point of view. He wasn’t sure who had shot him, but it had been the first man, the smaller, greasy one, who had come after him with the knife. “By the time I was done dealing with him, the other two thugs were out of commission, thanks to Tony. That’s when you arrived, Agent Barton.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Rogers. I think that’s all the information we need from you both.” Clint reached over and turned off the recorder. “I think I owe you an apology, Tony. You kicked more ass than I gave you credit for. Remind me not to piss you off.” Tony supposed that was high praise coming from a trained SHIELD agent. 

“So, what happens next? Have you gotten anything out of those goons?” Steve asked. 

“Well, once we got them patched up, the two guys spilled their guts with a bit of persuasion. Unfortunately that didn’t give us much, since they were just hired help. Fresh off the boat from Mother Russia, they were told the bare minimum to get the job done. They didn’t even know where they were going to be taking Tony. Looks like the dead dude was the mastermind; we’re tracing his prints, but I’m not holding out hope.” 

“And the girl? Is she okay?” Of course Steve was concerned for her welfare. 

“You didn’t do any permanent damage, Rogers,” Clint replied. “But she’s an interesting case. She seems awfully young to be mixed up in something like this. Hasn’t said a goddamned word to anyone so far, either.” Looking pensive, he asked. “You said she spoke Russian, Tony?” 

“At least understood it - I can’t remember if she said anything during their little pow-wow before she headed out.” 

“Huh. Well, thanks for your statements. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist a bit of fluff & schmoop between our boys after all the pining I put them (and y'all) through! And Clint was just trying to help out a fellow agent with a bit of surveillance. And it was totally @hddnone/MarvelousMenagerie's idea to give a perspective on Steve's encounter with Miss Mask... who just might be up to more shenanigans in the next few chapters.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the interview with Clint, Tony and Steve spend what was supposed to be a pleasant morning together, but an incident at a local diner brings out Steve's 'fight me' side and prompts a realization from Tony. But all's well that ends well, and they make plans for the morning.

Returning to their apartment, Steve went to the kitchen while Tony stopped to pick up the shield, which was still sitting where Clint had placed it the night before. Captain America’s real-live shield; he actually felt a bit giddy for a moment. It was both lighter and more solid than he’d expected and beautifully balanced. He traced his fingers along its perfect curves, the bright paint scratched and marred. Turning it over, he noted the worn, sweat-stained leather straps were still in place, having also survived decades in the ice. 

“So, Cap,” he said, holding the shield up, “did you ever stop to think that maybe charging into battle carrying a big ol’ target wasn’t the smartest idea?” Steve laughed a little as he walked towards Tony, an open box of cereal in hand. 

“Bucky said the same thing, but a damn sight more colorfully.” Setting down the box, he took the shield and spun it around a few times before sliding it almost automatically onto his arm. “Howard brought it with him to DC. Meant it as a peace offering, I s’pose.” 

“I’m surprised he gave it back instead of keeping it for his collection,” Tony replied. “It’s the closest thing you’ll get to an apology, you know.” 

“Kind of figured that.” Steve put the shield back down and sat on the couch, grabbing the cereal box again. He patted the cushions next to him, and Tony lay down, stretching across Steve’s lap with his head on the armrest. Tony still couldn’t quite believe that it was okay to be casually affectionate with Steve instead of keeping his heart hidden. They’d both been dancing around each other - quite literally, at one point - for so long. 

His mind went to that old Paul Simon song:

> _When something goes right_  
>  _Well it's likely to lose me_  
>  _It's apt to confuse me_  
>  _Because it's such an unusual sight_  
>  _I swear, I can't get used to something so right_  
>  _Something so right_  
> 

“While you’re satisfying that sweet tooth, sunshine, why don’t you tell me about DC?” Tony asked, opening his mouth when Steve tilted the box in his direction.

“Things went pretty well,” Steve replied, feeding Tony as he spoke. “I met with Peggy and Sam and we went thru the intel. I chipped in when I could, and they carried that info forward into their other meetings. Then Howard showed up and threw a monkey wrench into the proceedings.” 

“He has a tendency to do that,” Tony commiserated around a mouthful of cereal. 

“He seemed distracted,” Steve continued. “Couldn’t quite keep his mind on whatever we were talking about for very long. He started quizzing me on Zola, what I remembered about that madman. Howard said he was supposedly on our side after the war, part of something called Operation Paperclip, but he never trusted the sneaky bastard. Then he asked Peggy when they shut Camp Lehigh down, and what was on the property now.” Steve gave Tony a concerned look. “It really made me wonder if he’s starting to slip, Tony.” 

“Dad’s always been the kind of guy to have half-a dozen plates spinning at once.” Tony was surprised to hear himself defending his father. But he recalled the new equipment and the papers in the workshop at the house, as well as the overheard call to whoever that Radcliffe was. Howard definitely had something going on that he didn’t seem inclined to share with anyone. The question was whether it was a legitimate project, or some wild hare his aging mind was running off after. 

And then there were all the extra security officers prowling around Stark Industries, maybe twice as many as there had been only a month or two ago. And according to Obie, Howard had bulletproof glass installed in the windows of his office just this past week. Wasn’t that a symptom of Alzheimer’s - paranoia? 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, Tony, at least that hasn’t changed from when I first knew him.” Steve agreed. “Did he ever tell you that he mocked up a half-dozen different sample shields for me? Anyways, I hope I was able to do some good and help them with the operation.” 

“I’m sure you did. How are Sam and Miriam doing?” 

“Seem to be getting along,” Steve replied. “They don’t see a whole lot of each other at the moment, as she’s working night shifts during her probation period. I mostly hung out with Sam in the evenings and watched movies. You can blame him for A Princess Bride.”

“Or maybe thank him,” Tony said with a grin. “After all, true love is the greatest thing in the world, except for maybe a nice MLT -- mutton, lettuce and tomato sandwich.” And as if on cue, Steve’s stomach rumbled. “Well, sunshine, looks like those chocolate frosted sugar bombs aren’t a match for your insatiable metabolism. Let’s go get some chow.” 

They ended up at the same diner they’d visited after the realtor had showed them the apartment what felt like ages ago. The menu offered ‘breakfast anytime’ and while Tony was tempted to be a smartass and ask for french toast during the Renaissance, he opted for an omelet. Steve ordered eggs over easy, bacon, pancakes and hashbrowns. 

They were just finishing their meal, when two stylishly dressed young men holding hands walked by their booth on the way to pay their bill. A burly, middle-aged white-trash type sitting in the smoking section muttered, “Goddamned faggots. Hope they catch AIDS and die.” One of them flinched slightly, but kept moving. 

“Excuse me?!” Steve stood up and marched over to the man. “What did you just say?”

“I wasn’t talking to you, kid. But if you gotta know, their kind make me sick. Shoving their ‘alternative lifestyle’ down everybody’s throats. It ain’t natural.” 

Before Tony could blink, Steve snatched the cigarette from between the man’s lips, crushed it and placed it in the stamped steel ashtray that sat in front of him. “But shoving your lifestyle down the throats of everyone here is perfectly okay, huh? And how is it ‘natural’ to suck smoke into your lungs a dozen times or more a day? That’s what’s making you sick, not how other people choose to live their lives.” 

“Listen, buddy,” the guy replied, sticking a finger into Steve’s chest. “This is the U S of A. I gotta right to say what I think. And I think you owe me a cigarette.” He sat up straighter, sucking in his gut to look more intimidating. Good luck with that, Tony thought. 

Steve took two quarters out of his pocket and slapped them down on the counter. “Keep the change. And yes, I’m familiar with the First Amendment, sir.” He somehow made ’sir’ sound like a vile insult. “It was intended to keep the government from suppressing free speech. It doesn’t say a thing about whether other people have to put up with the kind of hatred you’re spewing.”

“When bullies like you, “Steve continued, hands clenched into fists at his side, “believe that their prejudice won’t be challenged, that their bigotry is the status quo, they stop just hoping that the people they despise and dehumanize will die and start thinking of ways to make them die instead. I saw firsthand the ghettos in Poland where the Jews, the gypsies and yes, the homosexuals had been forced to live in squalor. And then ‘their kind’ were rounded up, taken to concentration camps and murdered.”

“Are you callin’ me a Nazi, punk?” The guy slid off the stool and attempted to get in Steve’s face. As he was a good three or four inches shorter, it wasn’t working very well. 

“Well, now that you bring it up, I guess I am. And believe me,” Steve replied, giving the guy the full force of his formidable gaze, “I know a Nazi when I see one.” Without breaking eye contact, Steve picked up the ashtray and crushed it in one fist, holding his hand up to the bigot’s face and dropping the wad of metal in front of him. Steve turned to Tony. “Let’s go, before I lose my temper.” 

As Steve walked down the aisle to the exit, the man yelled out, “Who the hell do you think you are anyways, asshole?” 

Without turning, Steve replied. “Captain goddamn America.” and was out the door. The place was silent for a moment, but then, New Yorkers being New Yorkers, everyone returned to their business. As Tony fumbled in his wallet to throw a couple of twenties on the table, the waitress looked at him and said, “Wait a minute, aren’t you...?” 

“No, I’m not, no, he’s not and no, we’re not. Sorry for the trouble.” He handed her the money and followed Steve out of the diner. Tony didn’t catch up with him until they were almost back to their apartment. “That was quite a show back there. You okay?” Tony asked, putting a hand on Steve’s back. 

“I thought it wasn’t a big deal anymore. Being like us.” Steve looked oddly defeated for someone who’d just dished out a hell of a smackdown. 

“It shouldn’t be, sunshine. But there’s always jerks like that guy.” Tony suddenly thought of his parents. What if Howard found out about him and Steve? That would definitely be grounds for disownment in Pops’ eyes; he wouldn’t stand for his son embarrassing him in front of his cronies, to say the least of the SI board. Of course Tony would be out of a job and his projects would go straight out the window, or perhaps just be outright appropriated. His mother would be so disappointed; all her plans for him Marrying Well gone straight out the window. Maybe Ana and Jarvis might understand, but maybe not. 

Tony went straight to his room once they were home, opening the window to let it air out while he stripped the bed. He didn’t think they had an extra set of sheets, so he’d have to wash them. But he decided he might as well clean things up a bit before heading to the laundry room. As he put a couple of books that had fallen back up on the shelf, he decided to reorganize the bookshelf. Order out of chaos. 

“Tony?” Steve’s hand was on his shoulder. “You’ve been in here almost an hour. What’s going on?” He suddenly realized he was covered in sweat, his heart was racing and his hands were trembling as he kneeled in front of his bookshelf. 

“It’s not fair!” His temper suddenly flaring, Tony threw his copy of _Brave New World_ across the room. 

“What isn’t fair, sweetheart?” Steve sat down on the floor next to him, arm around his shoulders. 

“That I can’t hold hands with you at a restaurant. I can’t kiss you in the middle of the street. I can’t introduce you to my parents as the man I love. That we can’t be a couple outside of this apartment without the press eating us alive. I’m so sorry, Steve. You deserve so much better.” Tony’s voice trembled a little on the last few words. 

Steve held him close, and spoke softly. “You’re right. It isn’t fair, but it’s also not your fault. And it certainly doesn’t change the way I feel about you. Don’t ever apologize for being who you are.” His warm embrace helped calm Tony, as it always did. “Let’s give the books a break and go see if there’s anything good on the TV.”

They passed the rest of the day lazily, Steve watching some baseball while Tony curled up next to him and read. They ordered in pizza, and when Tony fretted about not having washed his sheets, Steve simply replied, “Thought you were sleeping with me again, darlin’.” 

“Oh.” Tony hadn’t wanted to assume, to expect that to be the new normal. Except it apparently was, and it was just what he needed. “Yes, please.” 

It was still a little awkward; Tony was reluctant to change clothes in front of Steve, even with the shift in their relationship. So he slipped on an old t-shirt and shorts while in the bathroom to brush his teeth. He knocked on Steve’s door before entering -- again, not quite sure of the protocol. 

“C’mon in,” Steve said. He was sitting on the side of the bed, dressed similarly, and obviously waiting. Tony covered a sudden flash of shyness by setting an alarm on his watch. “What’s that for?” Steve asked. “You’re not going into work tomorrow, are you? You already told them you wouldn’t be in.” 

“I know, but there’s still a hell of a lot of work to be done on the proposal, and I promised Howard and Obie that I’d have a draft ready for them by the beginning of next week.” Tony responded. He’d already felt a bit guilty about having taken one day off - after all, he hadn’t really been hurt. 

“But Clint said you might have a concussion. Do you really think you should drive?” 

“So I’ll take the subway. Might be a bit faster, depending on traffic.” 

“I just don’t know if it’s a good idea. What if... something happens?” Steve replied, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck. Something was obviously bothering him.

“Wait a moment. Are you afraid I’ll get snatched again? Like, off the street or something?” Tony asked. 

Steve wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Maybe ... but can you blame me?” Tony supposed he couldn’t. If their roles were reversed - he’d want to keep Steve under lock and key for the foreseeable future. 

“I guess not, sunshine,” Tony replied. “But I gotta go to work sometime. Do you want to ride along with me, make sure I get there safely? Be my strong, handsome bodyguard?” 

“Now you’re making fun of me,” he responded, perhaps only half-joking. 

“I didn’t mean it that way, Steve. I can see why you’d be a little worried. Let’s talk about it in the morning - see if we can come up with a good solution.” 

Once they were both in bed, there was an awkward moment when they both spoke: “Can I --” “Would you --” and with a soft laugh, they reached out towards each other. Steve curled carefully around Tony and all was well with the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The diner scene is my personal middle finger to Nick Spencer and the awful things he's done & is doing with Cap & Magneto in the comic 'verse. >:^{
> 
> And if you want to hear the entire Paul Simon song (which is VERY Tony/Stony IMHO): _[ Something So Right ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MeZJILxYi00)_


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony goes back to work and has to deal with Howard's less-than-sympathetic reaction to the previous night's events. Then Tony discovers his intern has gone missing, and not even Obie knows where she is. Ms. Potts becomes Pepper, and Lucky is Tony and Steve's temporary houseguest when Clint goes chasing after Miss Mask. Steve gets a bit frisky after dinner, and Tony has to be the responsible one.

The solution -- since Tony didn’t quite trust Steve to drive his Audi back from SI to the apartment without a few lessons in non-wartime driver etiquette -- was for them to both ride the subway to Manhattan. Tony drew the line at being actually escorted all the way to the door of the building, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Steve tailed him anyway. He decided to be too polite to look around to confirm it. 

There was a note taped to the office door in his father’s handwriting: “See Me ASAP - HS” That wasn’t good. Tony made his way to the executive wing with a certain amount of reluctance, choosing the long way around. Howard’s formidable executive secretary waved him into his father’s inner sanctum without a word. 

“What did you tell them?” Howard demanded the moment that Tony stepped into his office. So Howard had found out about the events of the other night after all. 

“Hi, Dad. I’m doing alright, thanks for asking, how are you?” He knew better than to start a conversation with his father by being a smartass, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. 

“I said, what did you tell them?” his father repeated impatiently. 

“I’m having a little pronoun trouble here. Who exactly is ‘they’?” Tony wanted Howard to say it out loud. 

“The Russians, Tony. Don’t be obtuse.” 

“Didn’t have much of an opportunity, as they slapped some duct tape across my mouth pretty much first thing. Maybe your little birdie forgot to mention that detail. Who do I have to thank for the tattletaling, anyways?” Tony was actually a little relieved that someone else broke the news to Howard. 

“Wilson called me yesterday morning. He thought it was important for me to know what had happened. I’m glad he had enough foresight to assign a fellow agent -- Barton, was it? -- to a surveillance detail. He shared a summary of the mission report with me.” 

“Well, it wouldn’t have mattered anyways, because they’re in custody, right?” Tony knew he was being difficult, but being called on the carpet like this had really rubbed him wrong. 

“Wrong. The girl got away early this morning. Wilson and Barton have been assigned to track her down.” Well, shit. Maybe Steve hadn’t been overly cautious after all. “I don’t suppose you can provide any insight as to where she might be?” Howard continued. 

“Unfortunately, no,” Tony confirmed. “She never said a word to me; in fact, I’m not sure if she even spoke where I could hear her. Steve did talk briefly with her, as she was their lookout in the building lobby.”

"So Wilson said.” Howard replied, “I just wanted to make sure.” 

“Well, then, you should know the only thing our statements was left out was Steve having his shield. Figured that might be a giveaway as to his secret identity. I was pleasantly surprised you returned it to him, actually. Figured you’d keep it for your collection.”

Howard flinched a little at that, which Tony had not expected. “You have no idea why I’ve done all this, do you, son?” But his reply wasn’t accusatory; instead his father sounded surprisingly sincere, almost apologetic, if that could be believed. But Tony wasn’t in the mood for a heart-to-heart talk at the moment. 

“No, Dad. I guess I don’t. Maybe we can sit down sometime and have a long overdue chat. But right now I have a lot of work to catch up on.” He turned on his heel and was out the door before he had a chance to reconsider. 

Potts was already hard at work, but she was alone. “Good morning. Sorry I’m late; my father had a few things he wanted to discuss. Where’s Nadia?”

“I was hoping you knew, Mr. Stark. She didn’t come in yesterday either. No one has heard anything from her. I wasn’t expecting you to be in today, but I’m glad you’re here.” 

Tony had almost forgotten the ‘out of office’ message he’d called in. “Oh, yes, thank you, Ms. Potts. So, what did I miss yesterday?” She caught Tony up on the status of the various bits and pieces of the project. The drivetrain elements were back from the Fab department, and -- along with the off-the-shelf components he was using -- were ready to start assembling into the prototype. While a working prototype wasn’t a requirement of the RFP, Tony had figured it would put SI a few steps ahead of the game. Potts had also gotten the last few pieces of info from the other SI departments they needed and was ready to start compiling the first draft of their master proposal response. 

There was a knock on the open doorway. “Tony!” Obie said, with a look of near-shock. “I didn’t expect to see you here today. 

Tony wondered at Obie’s reaction; he supposed the admin had passed word along about his absence, but he didn’t expect Obie to care all that much. “Yeah, I wasn’t feeling too hot yesterday, but it must’ve been one of those 24 hour flu bugs or something. Maybe food poisoning.” 

“Oh, well, I‘m glad you’re feeling better,” Obie responded, still seeming distracted. He came over to Tony’s desk, giving him a once-over before glancing around the room. “Where’s your lovely intern? She was out yesterday as well, wasn’t she? Wait a minute, were you two playing hooky and now you’ve got her stashed away in that Brooklyn love nest of yours?” He winked and nudged Tony, who bristled at the accusation. 

“No, Obie. There’s nothing going on between Ms. Roman and I, despite her clear -- and frankly, uncomfortable -- invitations. I haven’t the slightest idea where she is. I was hoping maybe you did.” 

“Huh - well, I haven’t heard a word myself,” Obie replied, just a bit too casually. “I’ll have my secretary call her at home; maybe she’s just under the weather, too. How’s the proposal coming along?” Tony gave Obie a quick summary of their progress before he went on his way. 

Tony was bringing up the plans for the camera mast and arm assembly on the CAD/CAM terminal when Potts said, “You meant it, didn’t you?” 

He spun on the stool to face her. “I meant what?” 

“That Nadia’s behavior made you uncomfortable.” Potts wore that same assessing look that she’d given him at the end of their interview. As if there were something about him she couldn’t quite figure out. 

“It did,” he admitted. “First off, there’s the whole workplace powderkeg - dating someone who reports to you is generally a bad idea. And while I don’t have a problem with a woman expressing interest in me; it seemed more like she saw seducing me as a challenge, a notch on her belt, so to speak. And yes, I’m well aware of the irony in my statement, considering what the tabloids have to say about my own amorous escapades. But as I’ve explained, that’s been blown way out of proportion.” 

“I see that now. My apologies, Tony. I’ve misjudged you.” 

Tony admired her willingness to admit her mistaken impression, understandable though it had been, “Not that you have any reason to apologize, but thank you, Ms. Potts.” 

“Pepper. Call me Pepper.” 

“'Pepper'?” Tony was intrigued. “I assume there’s a story behind that?” 

“Well, after I called out an entire sorority for the way they were treating a fellow pledge, they came up with a little ditty: ‘Pepper, Pepper, Pepper Potts. Thinks she’s hot; but she’s not. All those nasty little spots, Pepper, Pepper, Pepper Potts’.” she recited in a nasal, sing-song voice. “They assumed I cared about my freckles,” she finished with a shrug. It was only then Tony noticed the light dusting across her cheeks; he thought they looked good on her. 

“The sorority got busted a week later for underage drinking and put on probation. They forgot that pepper has a bite to it.” Her lips curled into a wickedly satisfied smile and her eyes flashed, but just for a moment. “I ended up owning the nickname -- even my professors were using it by the time I graduated.” 

Tony laughed. “You continue to impress me, Ms. Pepper Potts. Remind me never to get on your bad side.” They both worked through lunch; Tony helping Pepper sort through the piles of paper that had accumulated on all their desks. At first he thought Nadia had left them in a bit of a bind; but all the documents she’d been responsible for were eventually located and filed appropriately. It was almost six when they’d tracked down the last stray bit of information. 

There was a box of diskettes on Nadia’s desk tucked away between the monitor and the wall. Out of curiosity. Tony pulled one out; it was unlabeled, but he noticed the write protection slider tab had been broken off, so it was read-only. The rest of the disks in the box - ten total - had the tabs broken off as well. He thought about checking to see what was on the disks, but they’d already shut down their PCs. Besides, he had someone waiting for him at home. 

“Well, even with one teammate MIA, I think we put in a good day’s work,” Tony said as they walked together to the lobby. Tony spotted a familiar blond figure standing just outside the door with a large portfolio case that bulged suspiciously slung across his back. Real subtle, Steve. “See you tomorrow, Pepper,” Tony called out, as she had stopped to talk to one of the front desk clerks. She waved goodbye as he exited the building. 

Tony sauntered up to Steve. “So, sunshine, is that a shield in your satchel or are you just happy to see me?” he commented, leaning in close enough to avoid being overheard. 

“Little bit of both.” The fond smile on Steve’s face made it an effort not to draw him down into a kiss. Instead Tony winked, and they talked about how their days had gone as they walked to the station. Steve seemed to be paying more attention to their surroundings than their chat, and once they were down the stairs, he went on what looked like full alert. He stayed close to Tony as they waited, eyes scanning the crowd. Once the train arrived, he subtly guided Tony to a corner of the car away from the doors. Finally Steve stood at parade rest between him and the general population. 

“Not that I’m complaining, papa bear, but what’s with the hypervigilance?” Tony asked quietly, once the train was in motion. 

“Clint stopped by just after you left. The lookout - she escaped from custody early this morning. He and Sam are hot on her trail, but he didn’t want to take any chances.” Which just confirmed what his father had said. 

They took a circuitous route from the station back to their building, going in through the back entry. Tony found himself wondering what Clint had done with Lucky as they passed by his door; only to be greeted by the mutt himself when Steve opened the door to their apartment. 

“Hope you don’t mind too much. Figured it was the least we could do, since Clint didn’t know when he’d be home.” 

Well, alright then. A pooch sleepover it was. Steve and Lucky started a round of tug of war while Tony ordered in pizza from a new place. The pepperoni and sausage were spicier than either of them had expected, and there was no way Tony was going to let Lucky have more than a bite or two of crust, no matter how pitiful and absolutely starving he looked. The last thing they needed was to deal with was an upset doggie tummy. 

Lucky eventually slouched over to his food bowl and ate slowly, looking over his shoulder mournfully every once in awhile. “You’re such a faker,” Tony called out to him. 

“Can’t blame him for trying. Heaven knows it takes you forever to get a hint.” Steve teased. 

“Guilty as charged, honeybear. Guess I’ll have to make up for lost time.” Tony slid over next to Steve and playfully nipped at his ear. His full-body shiver and growl of pleasure in response were all the warning Tony got before Steve pounced. 

Tony had always been a fan of the make out session, whether as foreplay or as an end in itself. He’d never gotten any complaints, always giving at least as good as he got. But most of his experience was with women; kissing Steve was pretty much all new territory. The guy at the club - well, that had been mostly sloppy tongue work and groping. Tony wanted this to mean more to both of them. 

Steve was an enthusiastic, if still slightly awkward kisser, but he was learning fast. He wasn’t afraid to explore a bit, either; trailing his lips and tongue across Tony’s jaw, down his neck and across his collarbones. Tony would have enjoyed a bit more roughness, to be honest -- love bites and such -- but they could work up to that. As for Tony, he was being a tease, with light kisses and flicks of the tongue here and there, surging in hard, then pulling back. And he couldn’t keep his hands off Steve -- running fingers through his hair, tracing the curves of his face and the muscles of his arms and shoulders.. 

Tony ended up mostly sitting crosswise in Steve’s lap, completely aware of just how aroused Steve was getting; and Tony was right there with him. But that was going to have to wait; he wasn’t going to push the physical element of their relationship much further, especially since he hadn’t yet figured out his own feelings about it. Tony wanted to do this right with Steve, and communication, even if it would be awkward, would be an important part of that. They were both breathing hard when they finally broke things off. 

“I do believe you’re getting fresh with me, Steven Grant Rogers.” 

“Didn’t hear any complaints,” Steve replied with a saucy grin. God, he was gorgeous, with the color high in his cheeks, Tony thought. “Seemed like you kinda enjoyed it.” 

“Good lord, yes. Wasn’t it obvious? But I believe our houseguest needs a constitutional before we settle down for the night.” 

Steve heaved a sigh, which did interesting things to the parts of his anatomy Tony was in close contact with at the moment. “If you insist.” Lucky was eager to go out, but then took care of his business at a leisurely pace, marking every signpost and parking meter in a two block radius. By the time they got back, Tony was ready to call it a night. 

However, it seemed Steve wasn’t. As Tony entered the bedroom, he saw the window was wide open, letting in the heat and humidity they’d just spent the better part of an hour suffering through. 

“Gosh, it sure is warm in here,” Steve said, as he slowly, teasingly removed his shirt, leaving him in just his boxers. Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This man was going to be the death of him, but at least he’d die happy. 

“Listen, sunshine, I appreciate the effort, but I don’t have your super-soldier stamina.” He walked over and closed the window. 

Steve actually pouted a bit as he replied, “Can I at least get you to take your shirt off too? I wanna sleep skin to skin again.” 

“If you promise to behave - I have to get up early in the morning.” Dear lord, why was he having to be the responsible one? There was a tickle at the back of his brain; something trying to connect cause and effect, but he was too tired to expend any actual brain power on whatever it was. “Now, let’s get to sleep, honeybunch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm going out of town right after work today, y'all are getting this installment a bit early - enjoy! 
> 
> The underlying plot is definitely thickening, with both Nadia and Miss Mask gone missing.... :^) I hope you liked the little peek into Pepper's backstory - she'll be showing up more in future chapters. And Steve is in full protective/possessive mode for the foreseeable future as well.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Pepper stay late at the office; a surprise visit from their AWOL intern results in a revelation of her duplicitous nature.

Tony woke to a damp snuffling at the back of his neck. “Stop it, Steve” he mumbled. 

“It’s not me, sweetheart,” came the amused reply from across the room. Tony opened his eyes and rolled over to get a faceful of dog breath, as Lucky greeted him with an open-mouthed smile. “Someone wants you to come along on his morning walk.” Tony sighed theatrically as he checked the clock. Ten minutes before the alarm was supposed to go off. He could have been sleeping for ten whole minutes more. Why did mornings have to come so early, anyways? 

He dragged himself out of bed, threw on the t-shirt he’d planned to wear to bed the night before, and went in search of shoes and socks. By the time he was as ready as he was going to be, Steve and Lucky were at the door, with expectant looks on both their faces. Steve, bless his buttons, was also holding a large cup of coffee. 

“I forgive you for everything, ever,” Tony said, kissing Steve on the cheek after he took a sip of the perfectly-sweetened nectar of life. After all, he had priorities. “Lead on, Macduff!” Thankfully, Lucky was a little more prompt with his business that morning, so Tony and Steve (who insisted on accompanying him on his commute) were able to get on their way in a timely manner. 

This was the last workday before Tony and Pepper had to present the draft proposal to both Obie and Howard at 9am sharp Monday morning. He’d already warned Steve that not only would he be working late that night, but probably have to come in over the weekend as well. 

“Call me when you’re getting ready to wrap things up and I’ll come and get you,” Steve insisted. Tony counter-offered, saying he’d catch a cab, but Steve stood his ground. It was both annoying as hell and absolutely heartwarming. 

Pepper had practically dragged Tony down to the cafeteria at lunchtime. “If we’re working late tonight, you need fuel.” Turned out the grill made pretty decent cheeseburgers. They continued working past closing time, their fellow SI employees heading out for a weekend’s worth of fun. Tony had tried to encourage Pepper to leave on time, but she refused. 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Tony. It’s not like I have a hot date or anything.” 

“Well, then the male population of New York is derelict in its duty,” Tony responded. Her quick smile in reply didn’t quite look genuine, and Tony wondered why. 

“Flatterer. Now, where are the cost comparisons for thermal imaging cameras versus image-enhancing cameras?” 

A little after seven, Pepper called for a break. “Would you please see if there’s any Diet Coke in the vending machine? I’m going to go powder my nose.” Tony thought a dose of caffeine sounded like an excellent idea, even if the break room coffee was mediocre at best. On his way back, he glanced down the hallway and saw a figure standing at the door to the office, fiddling with the knob. 

“Hey!” he called. The figure turned to face him, and he started in surprise. “Nadia?” 

“Oh, Mr. Stark!” She practically threw herself at him, taking his arm and holding it tight, “I am so sorry I up and disappeared on you! My parents, they were in an awful car wreck a few days ago.” She tried unsuccessfully to stifle a sob. “The doctors didn’t think they were going to make it, so I dropped everything and went back home.” She continued with a sniffle, her words tumbling out one over another. “I didn’t have any way of getting in touch with anyone here. I just now got back to the city - I’m only staying long enough to pick up a few things and then I’m going back. I know I'm leaving you in the lurch and I'm really, really sorry. But my family means the world to me.” 

Tony’s first instinct was to comfort her, to tell her it was alright. But there was something about her story and the way she was telling it that felt just a bit glib, and it put him on his guard. It seemed out of character for the cool, calm and collected Ms. Roman to be so emotional. “Don’t worry about the project. Ms. Potts and I are getting along fine. You've been very helpful. What do you need from your desk? I can collect your things while you go clean up a little.” 

“No, no, I’m okay,” she insisted, wiping away the tears from her cheek. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be out of your hair.” He opened the door, and she crossed to her desk. “Could you see if I left a sweater on the coat rack, please?” Nadia asked. Tony ducked behind the door and spotted a black cardigan. 

“Is this it?” He held it up. 

“No, that’s Ms. Potts’. I must have taken it home with me after all.” She picked up the Great Works of Art desk calendar she’d brought in and slipped it into her bag. “I guess that’s it, then.” The box of diskettes was gone as well. Dammit - she had been up to something all along. 

“Let me walk you out, Ms. Roman,” Tony offered, gallantly holding out his elbow. 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she demurred. “I came in the back way, it’s not far at all.” 

“It’s no trouble,” he insisted, “I need to stretch my legs anyways.” She nodded in acceptance and took his arm. As they started down the hallway, Pepper turned the corner. 

“Oh! Ms. Roman - what are you doing here?” she asked. Tony felt Nadia’s hand tighten on his arm momentarily. She was definitely more on edge than she was letting on. 

“She’s dealing with a family emergency,” Tony answered, patting Nadia’s hand. “Just stopped by to collect a few things. I’m walking her out.” 

“Goodbye, Ms. Potts. It was a pleasure working with you,” Nadia reached out with her free hand.

“Oh dear - I’m sorry you’re leaving. I wish you well,” Pepper replied, shaking Nadia’s hand while her eyes flicked concernedly between the two of them. She could tell something was up as well, Tony thought. Hopefully he’d be vindicated once he got the attention of a security guard and had Nadia’s bag searched. 

Damn his luck - there was no one to be found on the short walk from their office to the back entrance. He was debating on whether to offer to walk her to the bus stop when she stopped and withdrew her hand. 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark, for the opportunity to work with you. As I told Ms. Potts, it was a pleasure. I left my badge on the desk. Could you scan me out, please?” 

As Tony ran his badge over the reader to unlock the door, he asked, “So, what’s on the diskettes?” 

“What diskettes?” She turned and gave him an innocent, confused look - he was almost taken in. 

“The box of diskettes that was on your desk and is now in your bag,” he replied, grabbing her wrist. “The ones with the read/write tab removed. I didn’t have a chance to look at them, but I can make some pretty good guesses. Makes me wonder what else you smuggled out of here over your ‘summer internship’.”

Tony found himself suddenly on his back - she’d twisted out of his hold and executed a perfect foot sweep. She was out the door in a flash, but as he scrambled up to his feet, she stumbled and fell not ten feet from the entrance. 

“What’s your hurry, miss?” drawled a voice that was oddly familiar. A man stepped out of the shadows, a hand held to his ear, while the other aimed a pistol at Nadia. “Hey, Falcon, the bolas worked great. Thanks for the suggestion. Team: meet me at the northeast entrance.” 

“Clint? Is that you? And what the hell are you doing to my intern?” Tony yelled in astonishment as the SHIELD agent walked over to Nadia and kicked away her bag. She cursed quietly but steadily in what was almost certainly Russian as she pushed herself into a sitting position. She wasn’t going anywhere quickly on her own since her calves had a cord wrapped tightly around them. She stopped moving when she saw the gun, but gave Clint an absolutely poisonous look. 

Keeping an eye on his quarry, Clint replied, a bit of confusion in his voice, “What do you mean ‘your intern’, Tony? She’s the lookout from the team that tried to snatch you. We just now caught up with her.” Tony felt the blood drain from his face. 

“Oh, fuck.” he breathed. This wasn’t just a bit of corporate espionage. This was Serious Shit. He grabbed at the edge of the door as his knees threatened to give out. 

“Huh. So - this looks bad.” Clint commented dryly, as the rest of his team joined him: Wilson and two men Tony didn’t recognize. 

“Nice job, Hawkguy.” Wilson commented, as he bent to put handcuffs on Nadia. 

“That’s HawkEYE, bird brain.” Clint responded, mock-offended. “And Little Miss Red is more of a thorn in our side than we’d thought. According to Mr. Stark, she was working here as an intern.” 

“And has a box of diskettes in her purse with who knows what on them,” Tony added, walking toward them as his stomach roiled. He struggled to wrap his mind around just what Nadia had really been up to all along. She’d made a fool of them all: him, Pepper, Obie.... 

Tony caught Nadia’s eye, and she bit her lip. “I’d apologize,” she said, “but I don’t think you’d believe me.” 

“Not a chance.” Tony replied. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” He turned to Wilson. “You and Agent Barton both know how to get in touch with me, right? I have another team member who’s probably wondering where I’ve gotten off to and the less explaining I have to do, the better, all things considered.”

“I think we’re done for tonight, Mr. Stark. We’ll need to do some debriefing in the morning. Thank you.” Wilson turned to confer with Clint, while the other two men had gotten Nadia to her feet and were escorting her away. Tony walked back towards the building. The door opened, and Tony was surprised to see Pepper standing there, looking at the receding figures with curiosity. 

“What’s this all about?” 

Tony sighed - he really didn’t want to lie to her, but he didn’t have the energy (and she didn’t have the clearance) to roll out the whole story. “Apparently Ms. Roman is a corporate spy, Ms. Potts. These gentlemen,” and he gestured to Wilson and Clint, who were keeping a close eye on Pepper and him, “are part of an outside investigation team SI recently hired.” He gave them a ‘play along with me, guys’ look that, thankfully, they seemed to understand.

“That’s correct,” Wilson added. “We’ll work with the internal security team to determine how her actions may have impacted the company. We’ll need to debrief you both, as well as anyone else this woman worked closely with.” 

“That would include the CFO of the company, Obediah Stane,” Pepper stated crisply. 

“Oh shit,” Clint said, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, miss,” he mumbled.

“I agree with the sentiment,” Pepper replied with a wry smile. “Please tell me the debrief can wait til morning.” 

“It sure can. As soon as you give us your contact information, you're free to go.” He handed her a card and a pen, she scribbled something down and passed it back over. 

“Mr. Stark, I assume we’re done for the evening?” Tony was impressed by how calmly Pepper was dealing with all of this; she really was something else. 

“That we are, Ms. Potts. Let’s go close up shop. Good night, gentlemen.” Pepper started striding swiftly down the hall. 

“Pep, I’m sorry you got mixed up in --” Tony started to apologize, when she stopped in her tracks. 

“Damn that woman to hell,” she fumed. “I thought she was just trying to sleep her way into the company, not outright steal from it!” Pepper turned to face him. “So, just how fucked are we?” 

“Good question,” Tony responded, “was not expecting you to drop an f-bomb there, but yeah. I have no idea how fucked we are at the moment. We’ll need to bring Legal in on this.” As Pepper was shutting down her computer and getting ready to leave, he made a quick phone call. 

“Hey, Steve. I’m going to catch a cab tonight. No - I’ll be fine. See you in about a half hour. Miss you too. Bye.” He knew Steve would be worried and maybe a little hurt, but he didn’t want to say too much in front of Pepper. She, in turn, said nothing about the conversation at all. 

They walked out together, and Tony made sure Pepper got to her car safely and was on her way before flagging down a taxi. His mind spun with the events of the evening and the consequences of Nadia’s betrayal as the cab drove through the streets of the city. He wasn’t surprised to see Steve pacing restlessly in front of their building. 

“Tony!” Steve exclaimed as soon as he exited the taxi. “Why didn’t you wait and let me come meet you?” He could tell Steve was holding himself in check. 

“I wanted to get home as soon as I could. I’ve got some unpleasant news.” Which, of course, made Steve even more concerned. He pulled Tony into a bear hug the moment they were in the apartment. Tony finally let his guard down and leaned into Steve gratefully. 

“Our AWOL intern, Nadia came to the office tonight.” Tony told Steve what had happened, up to and including the revelation as to her identity. “I still can’t believe it, Steve. Nadia looked right at me when those goons dragged me out of the bedroom and didn’t blink a fucking eye. I thought she and I were some sort of friends. But no, I walked right into her trap - telling her you were out of town so she could set the whole kidnapping plan into motion."

“Goddamned Mata Hari,” Steve seethed, “Where is she now?”

“SHIELD custody, again. But this time they know how slippery she is and I’m sure she’ll stay put until they figure out what's going on.” 

“Good. Because I’m not letting her within a mile of you again, sweetheart.” Tony felt as if he should be a little offended by Steve’s over protectiveness, but instead it was kind of hot. “Now to change the subject - I saved some lasagna for you, since I bet you didn’t eat dinner, and maybe not even lunch.” 

“Pepper dragged me to the cafeteria around one,” Tony explained, as he put a piece of the lasagna on a plate and popped it in the microwave.

“Who’s Pepper?” 

“Ms. Potts, my other teammate. The good one. Finally got on a first name basis with her. Well, nickname, in her case.” 

“I’m not gonna have to worry about her tryin’ to make time with my fella, too, am I?” Steve asked as he came up behind Tony and wrapped his arms around him. 

“Wait, were you jealous of Nadia?” Tony asked gleefully, turning around to face Steve. “Aw, honeybun... I never gave her a second thought. As for Pepper? Well, she's a heck of a gal, and perhaps if you weren’t here, I’d consider the possibility. But she hasn’t got a snowball’s chance in hell now.” He kissed Steve quite thoroughly, to make his point, ignoring the chime of the microwave timer. 

“Keep that up,” Steve murmured, “and that lasagna is going to get cold.” 

“And wouldn’t that be a shame,” Tony replied, with a smirk. Steve rolled his eyes fondly and stepped away. 

“Have some dinner, Tony. We can work on dessert a little later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, most of you figured out Nadia already... but now that she's back in custody, what else will we find out? And how much is Pepper going to be drawn into the situation? More will be revealed in future chapters. 
> 
> In the meanwhile, feel free to speculate in the comments or come over to [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/polizwrites) and say hi! Feedback and kudos make my day and feed my muse!


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony, Pepper and Obie are interviewed by SHIELD regarding the mysterious "Nadia Roman", with Tony talking to one of Peggy's proteges. Steve, after spending the morning exploring downtown, meets Tony (and Pepper) for lunch. Tony learns more about his formidable co-worker.

Tony adjusted the collar of his dress shirt, making sure it covered the marks that Steve had left on him last night. And while he’d done his best to return the favor -- giving hickies to Captain America felt downright sinful -- he was disappointed to see they were long gone by the time they woke up. 

Clint had called last night to set up a meeting time at the SI security office for the debrief. “We’re bringing in another agent, as we’ll need to speak to you, Ms. Potts and Mr. Stane separately.” Clint also asked about Lucky, saying, “I should be able to pick him up this afternoon - I really appreciate you guys keeping an eye on him.” 

“Seeing as I’m the reason you’ve been working overtime, I figure it’s the least we could do. Besides, Steve kinda likes the mutt. ” And so did he, Tony had to admit. He’d been intimidated by Lucky’s size when they first met, but he turned out to be a total goofball and attention sponge. 

Speaking of attention sponges, Steve was attempting to sneak up behind him, presumably for a quick embrace. “I can see you in the mirror, Rogers. Your infiltration technique has gone way downhill since the war.” 

“I’m distracted by how attractive my target is,” Steve replied with a grin and a squeeze. Tony thought Steve was looking pretty darned good himself, despite his tastes still running distressingly towards the plaid end of things. Maybe he had Scottish heritage along with the Irish. 

“Buttering me up again, sunshine? You are bound and determined to ride along with me this morning, aren’t you?” While Tony had successfully contended that no, he didn’t have a concussion after all and yes, he was able to drive just fine, he couldn’t argue Steve out of his self-assigned bodyguard duty, despite Nadia being in secure custody. 

“That’s right.” 

“And how am I supposed to explain what you’re doing there? Moral support?” 

“That’s one option. Or I could just go window shopping and check back around lunchtime.” Which was actually a decent compromise. 

“Think Lucky will be okay on his own?” Tony asked. Okay, so it was playing a bit dirty, to pull the dog into the discussion. 

“Took him out for a nice long run before you got up. He’s sound asleep with a full food bowl and water bowl.” Steve answered, with just a hint of smugness. Tony knew when he’d been outmaneuvered. 

“I’m ready to go if you are.” Tony picked up his suit jacket and grabbed a large cup of coffee on the way out the door. Tony enjoyed driving too much to ever quite understand the appeal of a chauffeur. He supposed it was part of the trappings of being a Big Shot; and yes, picking up clients in a limo and getting some extra face time in with them certainly made sense. But for day to day transportation? He’d much rather be behind the wheel himself. The traffic wasn’t terrible, for once, and they were pulling into the SI parking garage about ten minutes early. 

Steve decided to check out the Strand Bookstore, while Tony donned his metaphorical armor -- suit jacket and sunglasses -- and went to face the music. Pepper was already there, as were Clint and Wilson, along with a third man. A slightly receding hairline made him look a bit older than Wilson, as did the bland expression he wore by default. He introduced himself as Phil Coulson, and came off more like an accountant than an actual agent; maybe he dealt in computer forensics. 

Obie walked in, with an air of condescending irritation. “Tony - what’s this all about? I got a call last night about some kerfuffle with Nadia. You didn’t get her knocked up, did you?” 

“No, Mr. Stane.” Wilson said, before Tony could protest. “It turns out the intern you recommended to Mr. Stark appears to have been involved in corporate espionage. We’d like to talk to you about how she was selected, and anything else you may know about her, both professionally and personally. Please, come with me. Agent Barton, if you would interview Ms. Potts? Coulson, you’re with Stark.” 

The two of them stepped into one of the security offices. Coulson took a recorder and some file folders out of his briefcase. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Stark. Our former director, Ms. Carter has spoken well of you.” 

“You know Aunt Peggy?” 

“She recruited me a few years ago. Remarkable woman. But we’re here to talk about another remarkable, and potentially dangerous woman. You know her as Nadia Roman, but we’re trying to find out who she really is. I got a brief overview of the situation on the way over here this morning, so if you don’t mind starting with your introduction to her?” 

Tony talked about how Obie had recommended Ms. Roman for the proposal project, and the ‘personality conflicts’ that had him suggesting perhaps she wasn’t a good fit. “I thought it was a little odd that Mr. Stane insisted that she would be such an asset.”

“Do you think he was trying to sabotage your project, Mr. Stark?” To hear someone else draw that conclusion was both unsettling and somewhat relieving. While Obie had acted as Tony’s champion when it came to the various projects he’d pursued at SI, Tony had never been quite sure how much he could actually depend on him. It seemed like there were always little things that went wrong. And with Nadia - it just didn’t make sense to bring her on for a limited time with no real background in the industry; she’d just graduated high school, for gods’ sake.

“I’m not sure,” Tony replied slowly, not wanting to give away his own uncertainty to a stranger. “I certainly don’t believe Obie knew anything about her apparent double-dealings. He hates the Russians.” Coulson simply nodded, and jotted down a few notes. 

“This seems a good time to get into the details of the kidnapping attempt. I assume you didn’t recognize Ms. Roman as one of the perpetrators?”

“Of course not!” Tony responded hotly. “As I explained in my statement, she was wearing some sort of headdress or scarf that covered her face. There was a brief conversation between the four of them in my presence, but I don’t recall whether she even spoke. If so, I didn’t recognize her voice. According to Steve, she’d ditched the disguise by the time he saw her in the lobby.” 

“Wait a minute,” Coulson interrupted, “Who’s Steve?” So he wasn’t on Team Cap, Tony thought. Good to know. 

“My roommate, Steve Rogers,” Tony answered. “He tangled with her before the fight in the stairwell. It’s all in his statement.” 

“Hold on, his name is actually Steve Rogers?” Tony didn’t understand Coulson’s sudden interest, until he spotted the agent’s Captain America shield tie tack. 

Thinking quickly, he replied. “Yeah, I guess it’s kind of a funny story. His grandfather was one of the POWs that Captain America rescued during the war. And when his youngest daughter married a guy named Rogers, Gramps insisted that their first born son be named Steve, you know, as kind of a tribute.” 

“Well, you have to admit it’s a bit of a coincidence, you being the son of Howard Stark and all.” Coulson commented, then -- looking a bit embarrassed -- added, “I hear your father has quite the Captain America memorabilia collection. Is any of it on display here?” 

“There’s a few cases in the executive wing. Maybe we can take a look once we’re done.” Tony wasn’t above sweetening the pot to get out of this interrogation as quickly as possible. The rest of the discussion went fairly well. It was still a little difficult to recount the events of the kidnapping itself, but Tony made it through without getting too wound up. And while Coulson asked some rather probing questions, he was able to respond truthfully without making too much more mention of Steve’s involvement. 

They moved onto the events of the previous night. Coulson appeared impressed by Tony’s observation skills, but critiqued his confrontation of Nadia. “What if she had been armed? She could have taken you hostage and we’d be in a lot worse situation than we are now.” 

“As I said, I had absolutely no inkling Nadia was anything more than a sneak thief at that point. I figured she was someone’s stooge - like maybe Hammer Enterprises. It’s not the first time some gal’s womanly wiles have been used against me for financial gain.” 

“Hmm,” was Coulson’s only reply. He jotted down a few more notes, then asked. “What about Ms. Potts?”

“What about her?” 

“Didn’t Mr. Stane also recommend her to you? Could she be another potential plant?” 

“I did get Ms. Potts’ resume from Stane, but I was more involved in her hiring process. Her security clearance came back squeaky clean and I feel quite confident that she’s nothing like Nadia. In fact, she’s possibly even more pissed off than I am about the whole thing.” That actually got a slight laugh from Coulson. 

“Is there anything else you’d like to add?” he asked.

“Other than asking that this be handled discreetly, with no press involvement, I don’t think so. I imagine SI Legal will be following up regarding the corporate espionage aspects.” Which will give Howard one more thing to blow his stack about, Tony thought with a grimace. 

“Then I guess we’re done here,” Coulson said, turning off the recorder and stacking his papers. “Would it be asking too much for that little tour now?” 

It was going on one o’clock when Tony left the building. Steve was sitting on a bench across the way, a stack of oversized art books next to him. “Hey, Cap. Want to put those in the car before getting some grub?” 

“Sure,” Steve replied. “I saw a cafe down the street that looked good - shall we head over there for lunch?” 

It was just their luck that Pepper was sitting at one of the outdoor tables when they walked up. “Tony!” she waved, “Want to join me?” Not that he and Steve could have gotten away with much out in public anyways, but to have to put on a show in front of his oh-so-observant co-worker? Tony cringed at the thought. But it was too late, as Steve had already responded, “If three doesn’t make a crowd, sure!” 

Tony introduced the two of them, and by god, if they didn’t hit it off immediately. He hid behind the menu, feeling a little stab of jealousy. To be honest with himself, he wasn’t quite sure to whom it was directed. Pepper had been so standoffish when they’d first met, and here she was, chatting with Steve as if they’d known each other for years. And Steve, well, he was pouring on the old-fashioned charm like it was going out of style. 

“Tony, would you be terribly offended if I ordered a glass of white wine? I know we have work to do, but after this morning, I’m afraid I need a drink,” Pepper asked.

“Go for it,” he replied, “I’m afraid we’re dead in the water until Legal goes through everything and gives us a Go/No-Go on whether to proceed, or if Nadia screwed us over.” Howard was going to raise holy hell, but Tony didn’t see what else they could do at this point. 

They placed their orders, and after Pepper finished about half her glass, she leaned over to Steve and confided. “I’m afraid I was a little cold to Tony when we first met. I’d made the mistake of thinking I knew who he was based on the stories in the papers.” She then glanced over to Tony and made a little embarrassed shrug. “Stane’s comments didn’t help.” 

“What did he say?” Tony suddenly burned with curiosity. 

“That I shouldn’t be too surprised if I caught you and Nadia in a ‘compromising position’ at some point. ‘After all, every young man has his wild oats to sow’.” Her Obie impersonation made him smile, despite her words. She continued, “I wasn’t about to put up with that bullshit, so I pulled little miss sexpot aside and read her the riot act. I told her didn’t care what she and you got up to on your own time, but I was damned if I was going to let it affect my career chances.” 

“I appreciate your intervention,” Tony said. “It seemed to have helped.” 

“Besides, I could tell you weren’t really into her. Turned out your affections lie elsewhere.” Pepper eyed the two of them meaningfully. 

“Is that so?” Tony asked, desperately trying to keep his cool. Surely Pepper wasn’t the blackmailing type.

“Let’s just say when you’re observing the game from the outside, it’s easier to see who’s playing which positions.” The slight lift of her eyebrows combined with a quirk of her lips felt like a challenge, a sphinx's riddle.

“So, Ms. Potts, what exactly are you saying?” Steve was on alert as well. 

“‘Man delights not me. No, nor woman neither’,” she quoted. “I’m asexual. And now we all have secrets worth keeping.” 

Tony let that sink in for a moment before saying anything. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around not being attracted to anyone, either men or women; as he felt quite the opposite. But just because it didn’t make sense to him didn’t make it any less true for her. Infinite diversity in infinite combinations - the Vulcans had it right. 

Steve reached over and put his hand on top of Pepper’s. “Thank you for being so understanding.” He then pulled his hand away and apologized, “Oh, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have...”

Pepper shook her head with a smile. “It’s okay. I don’t mind casual contact; in fact, I rather enjoy hugs and other friendly touches from people I know and trust. It’s when it goes beyond something friendly that I have issues.” 

Tony could imagine what others might had said to her before: 'What happened to make you this way?' 'You just haven’t met the right person yet.' 'How can you not want sex? It’s great!' As if it were their business to tell her how she truly felt; that she must be doing something wrong, that she was broken. Which, of course, was the furthest thing from the truth. 

“You continue to surprise me, Pepper Potts, and in the best of ways,” Tony said, holding up his cup of coffee. “A toast to the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes - more character development for Pepper - and she knows about Tony and Steve! (but not about Cap!Steve.... at least not yet.) And what about Coulson - how long is Tony's off-the-cuff story about Steve going to hold up? 
> 
> As for what's going on with 'Nadia' - check out [ this chapter of the companion fic ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10444104/chapters/23530212) for Clint's perspective on things.
> 
> Thanks as always to my wonderful beta/cheerreader @hddnone as well as all you wonderful Constant Readers!!


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard summons Tony to his office to discuss the impact of Nadia's betrayal; Pepper comes along as support. Later that day, the two of them then present the robot RFP response to the SI internal team with generally positive results. They celebrate by going out to dinner, with Pepper insisting that Steve come along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - a bit of bad news/good news, with the bad news first.  
> For various reasons, I'm cutting back to once-weekly updates on this fic. That said, barring personal disaster, I WILL FINISH IT. Pinky promise. I've got a buffer of about five chapters at the moment and want to keep roughly that far ahead to allow for tweaks as I round third and head for home. 
> 
> Good news: I plan to start a companion fic, where each chapter is a separate scene that somehow fits into the overall TLTIWGT structure. Some will be alternate POV scenes, others will be interludes set within a chapter where the main fic fades to black. The companion fic will be rated Mature overall because of the latter, but each chapter will have a rating as well. There will be links in the appropriate places in the main fic for those who choose to read the extra stuff. I don't anticipate any of these scenes to affect the overall plot, instead providing extra insight.  
> NOTE: I will entertain suggestions for the companion fic, should you be so inclined.

“You don’t have to do this, Pepper,” Tony said as they walked down the hall to the executive suites first thing Monday morning. Tony had been summoned to his father’s office, presumably to discuss the latest turn of events. What he wouldn't give for a couple of boring days’ worth of work at this point. 

“I worked even more closely with Nadia than you did, Tony,” she responded, heels clicking against the marble tile. “I’m at least as culpable.” Tony bit back a reply - thinking that he was at least a little less likely to get fired than she was. They walked into the reception area and faced his father’s formidable executive assistant. Her highlighted hair was perfect, and her expression condescending, as always. 

“Tony Stark and his secretary are here to see you, sir,” she announced over the intercom. Tony mouthed a “sorry” at Pepper, and she simply rolled her eyes and shrugged. 

“Send them in,” Howard replied. He was seated behind his massive desk, and Tony felt as if he were about ten years old again. “So, it turns out your intern was a Russian spy.” Tony winced internally - he didn’t think Pepper was supposed to know the ‘Russian’ part. 

“In all fairness, sir,” Pepper jumped in, “Ms. Roman was originally recruited by Mr. Stane. Tony wasn’t involved in her vetting at all; Stane vouched for her, and your son trusted him.” 

“And you can trust me, Miss Potts,” Howard replied, steepling his fingers. “I have taken that into consideration. I assume neither of you had a clue as to her affiliation?”

“Not in the slightest,” Tony said. “She made a brief mention of the Russian language once, but I thought she was just showing off. She didn’t have a trace of a foreign accent. If anything, she sounded like she was from Nebraska or Ohio - somewhere like that.” 

“So, what tipped you off that she was up to no good?” 

“It was the diskettes - the fact that they were unlabeled and write-protected seemed odd; plus there really wasn’t a reason for Ms. Roman to have them in the first place. Something about her sob story seemed a bit off, too, so when I noticed that she’d whisked those diskettes off her desk and into her bag, I thought it was worth pursuing.”

“You’ve always had a good eye for detail, Tony.” Wait, had his father actually paid him a compliment? “But you got extremely lucky. You shouldn’t have confronted her yourself - paging security would have been the smarter thing to do.” 

“That’s why I walked her out,” Tony explained. “I was hoping to run into one of the patrolling guards and I would have turned her over to them at that point. I didn’t want to spook her.” 

Howard drummed his fingers on his desk. “Well, I suppose all’s well that ends well. Security and Legal are going over her computer with a fine toothed comb. The diskettes seem to have dealt more with the projects Stane had her working on earlier this summer - nothing on your proposal so far. Security has already reviewed Miss Roman’s badge usage and noticed that she did quite a bit of wandering around the building during the last week. Any idea why?” 

Pepper spoke up. “That was at my request, Mr. Stark. I sent Ms. Roman to various departments to collect the information we needed about SI to put in our proposal response. From what I recall, she didn’t seem to spend more time than expected on these tasks, but I can’t say for sure exactly what she may or may not have seen or done. In retrospect, perhaps that was a poor decision.” 

“Well, Miss Potts, running errands is part of what interns are supposed to be good for. You didn’t do anything wrong. It seems neither of you did. So until we find out all the damage that young woman may have done, you might as well continue with the proposal. Will you be ready for the review this afternoon?” 

“Yes, sir. We planned to put the final touches on this morning.” 

“We’ll talk again then.” Howard reached for the intercom. “Is Stane in the office yet? I need to talk to him right away.” Tony took that as a sign of dismissal, so he and Pepper went back to their office and got to work finalizing the draft of the proposal. 

Tony was still a little thrown by his father’s reaction -- or lack thereof -- to the situation. While it was true that they had been blindsided by Nadia’s betrayal, Tony hadn’t expected his father to be so understanding. But he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth; he’d take the reprieve and run with it. 

Once they were back in the office, Pepper said, “So, Nadia was Russian? I guess that explains why a federal agency was involved, although I’ve never heard of SHIELD before.” At Tony’s startled look, she continued, “Yes, I know we signed all those papers saying we wouldn’t breathe a word about it to anyone, but since you’re in it just as deep as I am, I figure what harm can it do?” 

She had a point, Tony thought and wondered just how much Clint had revealed. “So, what did Agent Barton tell you about her? Or what they’re investigating her for?” 

“He didn’t say much at all, to be honest, just wanted my story. He did ask how old I thought she was. I’d say she’s no more than eighteen, or perhaps a precocious seventeen. Which was another reason I interfered in her attempted seduction of you - being jailbait would have made things so much worse.” 

“Can I just have you sign a lifetime agreement now to be my assistant, occasional chaperone and all around watchdog?” Tony joked. “I’ll keep you in fine white wine and expensive shoes.” 

“Be careful what you promise, Tony,” she replied with a grin. “Besides, won’t Steve think I’m usurping his territory?” 

“Good point - you can be my overseer while I’m at work and he’ll be my personal bodyguard.” 

“I’m sure he keeps a very close eye on your body. Now, how about we get ready for the presentation?" 

 

It was going on one o’clock when Pepper said, “I’m going to take these printouts down to the copy room to get the transparencies made. Can I bring you anything?” 

“No thanks - I need to run these files over to the blueprints department and then pick up the prototype from Assembly. I’ll meet you in conference room 3B in about an hour,” he replied. While Tony waited for the printouts, he snagged a coffee from the break room. He was too nervous to consider actually eating anything. 

Pepper was already waiting outside the conference room, arms full of papers and binders. She set them on the cart next to the prototype, and Tony held the door for her. They finished setting up just a few minutes before the scheduled time. 

A couple of department representatives filed in, followed by Howard. “You can go ahead and get started,” he said. “Stane won’t be joining us today. He got ... called away.” Tony recognized the signs of anger and disappointment in his father’s face and tone, despite his attempts to hide them. 

The presentation went smoothly, with Pepper discussing the project management elements, while Tony covered the technical aspects and provided a demo of the prototype drivetrain, which was all they had assembled at that point. The department heads asked some good questions, and they found a couple of weak spots which were pointed out in a constructive manner. Howard, however, barely participated in the review, which surprised and concerned Tony; he felt as if he were waiting for another shoe to drop. He asked for final questions, and Howard just sat there, apparently lost in his thoughts. 

“Thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen. If you have any additional feedback, feel free to email either me or Ms. Potts. Our contact information is on the handouts.” As the attendees left, Pepper stacked the transparencies on the cart and Tony collected the extra handouts. He stopped in front of his father. “So ... what do you think, sir?” 

“You still have a ways to go. The brass is going to want maximum distance for the rover configuration, so you might want to rethink the gearing to squeeze every drop of juice out of the batteries. I’ll want to see the arm assembly prototypes in action as well once they’re ready. Oh, and your mother is planning another one of her interminable fundraising galas. I think it’s going to be sometime early next month. She’s sending out the invites this week and I’m sure she’ll include a list of suitable young ladies for your plus one.” 

Tony hadn’t expected such an abrupt change in topic, so simply responded, “Oh, okay - I’ll take that into consideration,” which was a response adequate for both statements. 

Tony checked his email once they got back to the office, and discovered a company-wide announcement. “Stark Industries CFO, Obediah Stane is taking a leave of absence for personal reasons.” It went on to detail who would be taking on his various responsibilities, mentioned that a statement would be released to the press that afternoon and that all employees were to refer any questions from the press or the general public to the Public Relations department. The spin machine was already hard at work. 

Pepper and Tony spent the afternoon planning out how to respond to the feedback from the meeting. As they wrapped things up, Tony asked, “So, Pep, want to go out and celebrate this milestone? My treat - wherever you like.” 

“Don’t you have someone to go home to?” she responded. 

“Steve won’t mind. He’ll probably go hang out with our neighbor and his dog. He loves that mutt almost as much as his owner does.” 

“Why not invite him along? The more the merrier.” Tony still wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Even though he now realized Clint had probably just been pulling his chain, he’d made a good point that Steve still had issues fitting in with modern society. Pepper picking up on that would only be a matter of time; she was incredibly observant, after all. But Steve couldn’t stay hidden away forever. Maybe it was time to widen the circle once again. 

“I’m not going to argue,” he replied. “You pick the place, and I’ll call and tell him where to meet us.” 

 

The three of them ended up at a middle-eastern cafe that was nicer on the inside than the outside. Pepper insisted on being seated in the traditional dining room, which featured low couches and tables with colorful pillows everywhere. Following custom, they had removed their shoes, and Pepper curled her legs gracefully under her as she sat. Tony let his eye rove around the walls, which were decorated in geometric mosaics whose intricacy fascinated him. 

They ordered up a shawarma platter with several side dishes: tabbouleh, fattoush, hummus and a surprisingly tasty tomato, cucumber and onion salad. And they just kept bringing the pita bread out. A selection of baklava rounded out the meal nicely and combined with the comfortable seating, Tony found himself nearly dozing off. He suspected the only thing keeping him going was the wonderfully strong Turkish coffee the waitstaff brought around. 

Once again, Pepper and Steve were getting along like a house afire. If she found his gaps in modern history or pop culture knowledge odd, she didn’t comment on it, instead smoothly changing the topic at any hiccups in the conversation. Tony’s eyes started glazing over when they got on the topic of late nineteenth century art movements, and he found himself leaning against Steve’s shoulder, momentarily forgetting where they were. 

“Looks like our pal is running on fumes,” Steve commented, as he gave Tony’s leg a surreptitious squeeze under the table before standing up. “It’s been a pleasure once again, Ms. Potts.” 

“Please, call me Pepper. You can ask Tony the story behind that. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Pepper once more proves her BAMF-ness, the RPF response is in good shape, Obie is out of the picture (at least for the moment) and Tony, Steve and Pepper get to hang out again. Life is good, at least for now.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper pals around with the boys, leading to Tony asking her to be his plus one to the Maria Stark autumn fundraising gala. Steve attends as well, playing the role of bodyguard. Both Pepper and Tony have memorable encounters with new acquaintances, and Steve goes a bit green-eyed.

Dinner get-togethers became a weekly thing. As Pepper got more comfortable with them, she began offering friendly hugs and cheek kisses, and accepted them in kind. Tony and Steve invited her over for dinner eventually, and she didn’t bat an eye at their casual affection with each other in their own home -- or hers, when she extended the invite. One unseasonably chilly evening, the three of them ended up huddled on the couch together under the blankets, watching movies til the wee hours of the morning. 

So as his mother’s autumn fundraising gala crept closer, Tony supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that Steve suggested he take Pepper as his plus one. Because as much as Tony wanted to take Steve as his date instead, they both knew that wasn’t possible. 

“You have to admit,” Steve argued, “it would keep your mother from trying to match you up with any of the young women on this list,” He held up the sheet that had been included with the invitation. Six names, along with Maria’s personal recommendation of each, were neatly jotted down in her elegant handwriting. 

“And you’d be okay with that? Because I’m pretty sure we’d be splashed all over the society pages.” Tony had kept a low profile since the ‘Stark Naked for Stark Heir’ embarrassment that summer and he assumed the paparazzi would eat up his appearance with such an attractive woman as Pepper on his arm. 

“Of course. You’re my friends and I trust you. Besides, I know a little something about putting on a show for people. ‘The Star Spangled Man with a Plan’, remember?” 

“I suppose you do. Well, let me see if she’s interested - and I’m sure I can wangle an invite for you as well, sunshine.” 

Pepper enthusiastically accepted the invitation to the gala, even with the understanding that she would be perceived as Tony’s date for the general public and press. “My mom will probably make the same assumption. But I promise I won’t try to make out with you in the coat check room,” Tony joked. 

“No, I imagine you have someone else in mind for that,” she teased right back. 

Tony tried to get Rhodey to come to the shindig as well -- his mother always loved having men in uniform at her events and Tony needed all the allies he could get. After a few emails flying back and forth, Tony finally got a hold of him on the phone one evening. 

“Man, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t get the leave approved in time,” Rhodey apologized. “Guess we’ll have to wait a bit longer before I can offer my congratulations in person to you and Rogers. Still can’t believe it took you two so damn long to figure things out,” he teased. “But I’m glad you did - you deserve someone special, Tones.” 

“Thanks, Rhodeybear.” Tony had been relieved to know that his best friend really was okay with him being in a relationship with another man; having support from his oldest friend as well as his newest one meant the world to him. 

“By the way, I’ve put in for a new assignment.” Rhodey added, as they were wrapping up their conversation. When Tony asked him for details, he refused, saying, “It’s kind of a long shot and I don’t want to jinx it.” 

Maria was disappointed that Rhodey couldn’t attend, but was more than happy to add Steve to her guest list. “I don’t suppose it would be quite right for him to appear in his dress uniform, now would it? Such a shame,” she complained over the phone to Tony. 

“Don’t worry Mom, I’ll take him to Ruffizi and get him all decked out.” Signor Ruffizi himself met with them to select the appropriate formal wear for Steve, and Tony took the opportunity to update his own look at well. Once they were squared away, Tony checked in with Pepper to see what she needed. 

“I’m planning to hit up Filene’s and a couple of other places this weekend. I’ll find something good. Trust me.” 

And yes, Tony thought, she definitely found something good. A blue-grey gown in satin that fit her like a glove, matching heels that looked like they could kill a man and a heavy silver choker chain that, along with her elegant updo, showed off her neck and shoulders nicely. “My god, woman, you are drop-dead gorgeous.” He handed her into the back of the limo, while Steve whistled appreciatively.

“Miss Pepper - you are an absolute vision.” 

“You’re pretty easy on the eyes yourself, Steve.” He certainly was, in a midnight blue traditional cut tux. Tony had selected a slim cut in classic black, with red accents. As the limo pulled up in front of the venue, Pepper nervously smoothed out a wrinkle in the fabric over her knee and asked, “You’re sure this is okay?” Tony was pretty sure she didn’t meant the dress, instead referring to the somewhat awkward situation.

Steve nodded, albeit with a tinge of regret, while Tony replied quietly, “Yeah, everything’s okay, Pep.” Reaching out to squeeze both their hands, he asked, “Ready for the flashbulb barrage?” 

“As much as I’ll ever be,” she responded, while Steve squared his shoulders The blank-eyed lenses of the cameras were pointed right at them as soon as their driver opened the door. Steve exited first, squinting slightly but looking appropriately stern, assuming the role of bodyguard for the night. He helped Pepper out of the car, then Tony made his entrance. As always, there were shouts to get their attention, to turn towards the cameras and smile. Tony wished he’d remembered his sunglasses. 

Things settled down once they got into the building, as the majority of the photographers were barred from entering. Tony took Pepper to meet his mother first thing. Maria was holding court, front and center, of course. 

“Mom, I’d like you to meet Miss Virginia Potts. We’ve been working together on the robot proposal for the DoD. Pepper, this is my mother, Maria Stark.” 

“Hello, dear - what a lovely gown!” Maria said, “And did Tony give you that nickname? He’s incorrigible when it comes to that.” 

“No, ma’am - I’ve been called Pepper by my friends for some time now.” She looked around the ballroom. “Did you select the decorations? They’re beautiful!” It was a bit glitzy for Tony’s taste, personally. He suspected Pepper, while astute with her observation of his mother’s involvement, was being overly complimentary. 

“I provided a few suggestions here and there,” Maria replied modestly, but obviously pleased. “So nice to meet you, Miss Potts. I’ll let you two kids go enjoy yourselves.” Their next stop was the bar, where Pepper ordered white wine and Tony a scotch. Steve joined them, drink already in hand. 

“What’s your poison, Cap?” Tony asked.

“Just ginger ale. Quite a party, I have to admit.” Maria had gone all out, with a live orchestra and dance floor, buffet complete with ice sculptures and of course, the bar. Tony looked around for familiar faces; while he hadn’t expected to see Obie in the crowd, it still seemed strange that he wasn’t in attendance. His booming voice usually carried across the room, and a lively crowd always formed around him. While Tony occasionally enjoyed the spectacle, he found he didn’t really miss Obie’s presence. 

Beyond the bland press release announcing his temporary leave of absence, there had been nothing in the news about the Stark Industries CFO at all, much less linking him to any international incidents. For whatever reason, SHIELD was keeping the whole ‘Nadia Roman’ situation very much under wraps, whether at Howard’s behest or not. 

“Can I talk either of you gentlemen into joining me on the dance floor?” Pepper asked. 

Steve shook his head ruefully. “Never really learned, and I’d hate to scuff up your shoes.” She turned to Tony, pointedly holding out her hand. 

While he had abhorred the lessons, Tony was a reasonably adept dancer, and Pepper easily followed his lead. They paused at the edge of the dance floor at one point to pose for one of the event photographers, who carefully jotted down Pepper’s name. The orchestra was just finishing a song when Tony felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“May I cut in?” It was Justin Hammer, in the smarmy flesh. 

“We were just going to take a breather,” Tony said, but Pepper gave him an enigmatic look, then turned to Hammer, stretching out her hand. 

“I seem to have tired my current partner out. Thank you for the offer.” He whirled her away, while Tony rejoined Steve. 

“Who’s Pepper’s new partner?” Steve asked. 

“Justin Fucking Hammer,” Tony groused. “Manhattan’s Bachelor of the Year, self-proclaimed technological wunderkind and asshole extraordinaire. I hope Pepper stabs him with one of her stilettos.” 

“So, tell me how you really feel, champ,” Steve replied mildly, but he was keeping a close eye on the two of them as they moved across the dance floor. Pepper and Hammer were talking and she appeared to be having a good time, but they both knew her well enough by this time to recognize it as an act. When Hammer's hand started to drift southwards from the small of her back, Steve started in their direction, accidentally bumping into an older gentleman. 

“Oh, excuse me - I’m so sorry!” And as Steve apologized, Tony felt himself being pushed aside.

“Undersecretary Pierce! I’m so glad you could come!” Howard reached out to shake Pierce’s hand, coming between him and Steve. The tightness in Howard's jaw surprised Tony; it seemed his father was on edge, even more than he normally was during these sorts of events. 

“Nice to see you again, Stark,” Pierce replied, “and Tony, right?” Tony nodded, and they shook hands. Pierce then pointed towards Steve, who was skirting the edge of the dance floor. “Who was that young man I barreled into? He looked familiar.” 

“His name’s Steve, Steve Rogers.” Tony said, jumping in before his father could say a word. “He’s a friend of mine who just got back from a tour of duty overseas. I thought the party would help take his mind off things.” 

“Steve Rogers, you say?” Pierce asked, “Wasn’t that Captain America’s real name? I must say he’s the spitting image -- surely he has to be related...” Tony repeated the grandfather POW story that he’d told Coulson. Pierce listened politely while Howard raised an eyebrow in startled approval. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Pierce said when Tony had finished the tale. “Tell your friend I owe him an apology, and my thanks for his service. Stark, can I have a few moments of your time?” They walked over to a nearby table, out of Tony’s hearing. 

The music drew to a close, and as Tony searched the milling crowd for Pepper, Hammer and Steve, Maria Stark walked up to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming tonight. We are here to raise awareness for literacy, both here and abroad. Your generous contributions are going to build up the libraries at several Boys and Girls clubs in the larger New York City area, as well as provide textbooks for the clubs’ affiliated organizations in South Africa. I would encourage you to look over the items in the Silent Auction,” and she gestured to the tables set up along one wall, “and bid early and often.”

While she continued to speak about one of the many causes dear to her heart, a generically attractive blonde sashayed over to Tony. “Well, if it isn’t the young and handsome heir to the Stark fortune back out in the public eye. You’ve been laying low for the last month or so, haven’t you? I suppose your mother quite disapproved of that strip club photo.” 

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Tony was still trying to locate Steve, after having spotted Pepper and Hammer looking over the silent auction items. Despite whatever indiscretion Hammer may have attempted on the dance floor, Pepper still seemed to be at the very least tolerating his presence. 

“Christine Everhart. I’m a journalism major at NYU. We haven’t actually met.” She extended her hand. Having already been a bit rude with his divided attention and abrupt question, Tony took it. “I was hoping to run into you tonight,” she said, not letting go at the end of the handshake. “I’d love to have a little sit-down, maybe an exclusive one-on-one?” Her straightforward gaze combined with the slight lift of an eyebrow made it quite clear that she was willing to do whatever it took to get his undivided attention. 

“I don’t do interviews unless they’ve been cleared with the Stark Industries Public Relations department,” he responded. Not entirely true; but it was good enough for the moment. 

“Are you sure I can’t do anything to convince you otherwise?” She leaned toward him slightly and inhaled, her ample assets nicely framed by her low-cut, bright red bodice. 

“Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Stark,” came an all-too-welcome voice from over his shoulder, “but a situation has come up that needs your attention.” Tony withdrew his hand from Ms. Everhart’s overly-eager grasp as he turned to face Steve, who was standing at parade rest and looking every inch a professional bodyguard. “My apologies, ma’am.” He inclined his head slightly in her direction.

Tony glanced back at his frustrated pursuer. “Always in demand, aren’t you, Tony Stark?” she commented, her smile coming nowhere near her eyes. “Well, I hope we’ll meet again soon.” 

“It wouldn’t surprise me in the least, Ms. Everhart. Enjoy the rest of your evening,” he replied. Steve rested his hand lightly on Tony’s shoulder as he guided him through the crowd. They stepped out into the hallway, then around the corner. Steve opened a door, and ushered Tony into a darkened room. 

“What’s going on, Steve? Is Pepper alright?” Tony couldn’t think of anything else that would merit Steve’s unexpected actions. 

“She waved me off when I went to cut in. Winked at me over that guy’s shoulder. She’s up to something, Tony, but I think she can take care of herself.” Then in a rougher voice, Steve added, “However, I didn’t bring you here to talk about her.” He took Tony’s face in his hands and kissed him quite thoroughly. Tony tasted the bite of horseradish on Steve’s tongue; he’d apparently found the shrimp cocktail to his liking. 

“Seein’ that blonde chippie comin’ on to you, well, I couldn’t help but barge in,” Steve rumbled. “She doesn’t have the right. I might have to share you with Pepper tonight, but I’ll be damned if anyone else tries to make time with my fella.” Tony found himself backed up against a counter and much more turned on than he should have been by Steve’s sudden streak of jealousy. 

“Steve, darling, trust me. There’s no one else I’d rather be with tonight. Or any night.” 

“Prove it.” Never one to back down from a challenge, Tony wove his hands into Steve’s hair, pulling him into a deep and dirty kiss. Steve, in turn, picked Tony up and sat him on the counter, stepping into the V of his thighs and returning the kiss with equal fervor. They broke apart, panting. 

With a wicked glint in his eye, Steve slid Tony’s jacket back off his shoulders, loosened the clip of his bowtie, nudged his shirt collar down, then latched onto his neck, using lips and teeth to leave what Tony suspected was going to be one hell of a hickey. He tried unsuccessfully to stifle his moan in response, digging his fingers into Steve’s shoulders. “There. Now I’ve left my mark.” Steve stated, finally coming up for air. "They'll all know you're mine."

Tony seriously considered dashing back to the apartment with Steve to finish what they’d started, but there was no way they could abandon Pepper. So instead he laced fingers with Steve, kissed the back of his beloved’s hand and replied. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Pepper's up to something with Hammer, and Steve's gone all caveman on Tony. Where will things be going next? Tune in next week...


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony returns to the gala to retrieve Pepper, who shares the results of her encounter with Hammer. On the way home, a casual double-entendre from Steve gets Tony thinking (and worrying) about the physical aspect of their relationship. After a heart-to-heart, Tony decides he's ready for the next step (cue 'fade to black' interlude). During a talk the next morning, Tony learns that apparently their entire circle of friends was aware of their mutual pining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: While this chapter contains a discussion regarding sexual intimacy and expectations (as well as consent) -- the resultant activities are covered in more detail in the linked Interlude. Read at your own pleasure - there's nothing in that section that affects the plot.

Once they’d both caught their breath, Steve said, “You’d better get back out there and mingle. The men’s room is just across the hall. Might want to stop in there first.” He opened the door, took a quick look left and right, then motioned to Tony. 

Tony hopped down from the counter. His legs were still a bit wobbly, but he slipped past Steve and ducked into the restroom. Looking in the mirror, he couldn’t suppress a bit of a grin. He pulled a comb out of his pocket and set his hair to rights, then splashed some cold water on his face. He fixed his tie, but damn if Steve’s aim hadn’t been perfect, with just a sliver of the purpling bruise peeking out above the crisp edge of the collar. 

Tony spotted Pepper over by the silent auction tables, talking with Maria. “There you are, Tony!” she said brightly as he came up to join them, positioning himself so his mother wouldn’t see Steve’s handiwork. “I’ve been having a wonderful conversation with your mother. It turns out that I volunteer at one of the clubs that’s going to be receiving the books.” 

“Isn’t that just the best coincidence?” Maria added. “You’d better not let this one get away, Tony.” Pepper blushed a little at that, and Maria laughed. “I’m sorry, my dear. I just want my son to be happy, like any mother would.” 

“How’s the silent auction going, Mom?” Tony asked, desperate to change the subject. He had known that his mother would size up any woman he brought to the gala as a potential partner; he just hadn’t expected her to be so blatant about it. 

“Wonderfully well. There’s quite the battle going on over the vintage signed Captain America comics.” There was just the barest pause before his mother had said ‘vintage’, as Steve had signed the comics -- albeit with a period-appropriate fountain pen -- earlier that week. Truth in advertising? Well, mostly. 

“Nice to know Captain Rogers is still popular in some circles,” Tony responded, wondering if Agent Coulson had been invited to the soiree. The three of them talked a little longer about the silent auction before he asked, “Pepper, how much later would you like to stay?”

“Actually, Tony, I’m ready to go whenever you are. Thank you again, Mrs. Stark, I had a lovely time.” 

“I’m so glad. Now, don’t be a stranger, Miss Potts.” Maria took Pepper’s hand and patted it warmly. 

“So, Pep,” Tony asked quietly as they crossed the room, “What was the deal with Hammer? Steve said he tried to rescue you from the guy’s clutches, but you waved him off.” 

“He was telling me all about his fascinating and terribly important project,” she replied in a hushed voice, leaning in toward Tony with a mischievous twinkle. “Apparently he’s working on a proposal for the Department of Defense for semi-autonomous robots. Of course, he had to explain what ‘semi-autonomous’ meant for my benefit,” she continued, rolling her eyes. “Anyways, I learned a few tidbits that just might come in handy for our own proposal.” 

“You little minx! I bow to your ingenuity, even if it wasn’t entirely ethical.” Tony said admiringly, as they came up to Steve. “Guess what, Cap? I think we’ve got another Peggy Carter here. The creep she was dancing with is one of our competitors on the DoD proposal and, while trying to impress our lovely lady friend, managed to spill some secrets.” 

“Looks like she charmed your mother as well, from what I could tell from over here,” Steve commented genially, but Tony saw the slight flare of his nostrils; apparently he was still a bit envious of Pepper’s role for the evening. 

“Mission accomplished all the way around, then,” Tony stated. “Are we ready to call it a night?” 

“Yes, please,” Pepper said. “These heels are killing me. I demand payment in the form of a foot massage in the limo on the way home.” She hadn’t been joking; as soon as they were all seated, she kicked off her shoes and deposited her feet in Steve’s lap. “Let’s see what those big, strong hands of yours can do.” Steve seemed happy to oblige despite his flash of jealousy, pressing his thumbs into her arches and the balls of her feet. “You are my hero, Steve,” she sighed happily, leaning back onto Tony. “He’s a keeper, boss.” 

Ever the gentleman, Steve escorted Pepper into the lobby of her building. Carrying her shoes, she had to stand on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Tony smiled to see Steve’s slight blush. Once he was back in the car, the driver asked, “Back to your apartment, Mr. Stark?” 

“Yes, please.” The driver rolled the privacy window back up, and Tony slid over next to Steve. He supposed this was another benefit of being driven around in a limo; a chance for a bit of alone time with your date at the end of the night. “So, do I need to be the one getting jealous now?” 

“I’d be happy to rub your feet, darlin,” Steve replied with a sly smile, “or anything else that might be a little stiff and sore.” Tony’s breath caught in his throat. They’d been taking the physical part of their relationship nice and slow; despite sleeping together, they hadn’t done anything that really qualified as ‘sleeping together’. To go with the old baseball cliche, they were somewhere between first and second base. 

Not from lack of desire, that was quite clear for both of them. And from Steve’s comment, he seemed more than ready to move to the next step of physical intimacy. But for Tony, there was the fear of the unknown. Not only was he unsure about how to combine sex with love, as he’d never felt this strongly about any of the women he’d been with, but there was the whole guy on guy dynamic. What would any of it be like with a man? Would he enjoy it? Would Steve enjoy it? What if he wasn’t any good? 

“Tony?” Steve murmured in his ear, “we’re almost home - are you okay?” Tony realized he’d been lost in his thoughts. He turned to brush a quick kiss across Steve’s cheek.

“I’m with you, aren’t I?” he responded lightly, but Steve wasn’t fooled. As soon as they were back in the apartment, Steve took him gently by the hand and sat him down on the couch. He squatted down in front of Tony, and said “Talk to me, sweetheart. I know something’s bothering you.” 

“I don’t know how to do this,” Tony blurted out, and at Steve’s concerned, confused look, he continued, “I mean, the physical stuff. Making love instead of just having sex. To say the least of being intimate with another guy... I mean, handies should be easy enough, and I can probably reverse engineer a blowjob -- I mean, I know what I like...” Steve interrupted Tony’s babbling by taking his hands and holding them in his own. 

“Tony, it’s all right. You don’t have to be an expert in everything. And as much as I’d like to do everything you just mentioned eventually, that’s not why I’m with you. I love what’s here,” and he touched Tony’s forehead, “and here,” placing his hand on Tony’s chest, “so much more than what’s down there. Whatever we do and whenever we decide to do it, we’ll figure it out together.” He kissed the back of Tony’s hand. “Promise.” 

“Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly love you any more,” Tony sighed, “you go and prove me wrong. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, sunshine, but I’m sure as hell not giving you back now.” He pulled gently on the lapels of Steve’s jacket, drawing him into a kiss. Steve hummed happily, shifting to his knees and sliding his hands under Tony’s jacket, while Tony unraveled Steve’s tie, and removed the collar studs. 

He broke off the kiss to mouth at Steve’s jaw, trailing his tongue down Steve’s neck. Steve blew gently in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Tony returned the favor by grazing his teeth against Steve’s collarbone, and smiled wickedly at the resultant groan. Steve had managed to untuck and get underneath Tony’s shirt, and was trailing his fingers in slow circles across Tony’s lower back. 

“How about we slip into something more comfortable, darlin?” Steve asked. 

“If by ‘something more comfortable’, you mean ‘bed’, I’m right there with you.” And he was -- Steve’s reassurances had made all the difference, somehow. And while Tony was still a little uncertain about his own abilities and what he would feel comfortable doing, he believed that Steve would be understanding about any boundaries he might set.

[ Interlude ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10444104/chapters/23297484)

Tony awoke slowly the next morning, not quite sure if what he recalled of the night had really happened; but the nearly-empty bottle of lotion on the nightstand and the towels scattered on the floor seemed ample evidence. He rolled over to see Steve giving him an impossibly fond smile. 

“Good morning, sweetheart - how’re you feeling?” he asked, propping himself up on one elbow. 

“‘Well, it all depends on how much vitamin E I can get my hands on’,” Tony quoted. At Steve’s quizzical look, Tony realized he’d better add _Blazing Saddles_ to their movie list. “Anyways, once I get a shower, I’ll be okay, despite being a non-enhanced type.” 

“Oh, I think you kept up just fine,” Steve replied, with a twinkle in his eye. 

“How about you, honeybun?” Tony didn’t know how to ask ‘Did I do okay? Was it enough?’, but Steve seemed to read his mind anyway, dispelling his fears with a gentle kiss. 

“Honestly, I’m starving. Let get cleaned up quick and get some breakfast.” They hit up the neighborhood bakery and bought a half-dozen egg croissant sandwiches and the obligatory large coffee and decided to dine al fresco at the local park. 

“What do you want to do today? And please don’t say ‘tinker with my project’,” Steve said pointedly. “You deserve a day off, and I want to spend time with my best guy.” 

Tony considered arguing; he really did need to double-check the wiring schematic for the camera mast and finish the arm assembly. But as Steve’s hand closed ever-so-briefly over his, he relented. 

“Fair enough, sunshine. My day is yours. What would you like to do?”

“I was thinking we could go over to the Y, maybe make a couple of runs up the climbing wall.”

“The Cliffs of Insanity? Only if you’re Fezzik and I can ride along.” Tony teased.. 

“Um, speaking of that movie, I s’pose I should tell you I didn’t watch all of it,” Steve responded, a bit shamefacedly. 

“You didn’t like it?” Tony was crestfallen; he’d been looking forward to watching the film with Steve. 

“No, it’s not that, I just got distracted,” Steve explained. “Sam had ordered some Chinese food, but it wasn’t the kind we usually get - he said it was sesh... shez... Szechuan? Anyways, it was pretty hot. Eye-watering, even. Sam put the movie in - he said that it might start slow, but there was action and adventure, pirates and giants and sword fights, good conquering evil, stuff like that.” 

Steve continued, “Seeing Westley and Buttercup together, well, it got me thinking. The movie was right -- true love doesn’t happen every day. And I knew I’d already lost what could have been one chance at it with Peggy. By the time the movie got to where Buttercup pushes the man in black down the hill and it turns out it’s Westley.... well, I couldn’t help myself. I blurted out to Sam, ‘How do you tell someone you’re head over heels in love with them?’.” 

“Well, I bet that stopped the movie in its tracks,” Tony responded, curious to see where the story was going. “What did he say?”

“That it was a tough question to answer out of the blue and to tell him more. So I did -- it just all poured out. I told Sam that from the moment we met, I knew there was something special about you. How you were smart, funny, and kind. That I’d never have made it without your support and friendship, and when we were together, it felt like I was home.”

“Did he know you were talking about me?” 

“I never said your name - and I was careful, at least at first, to not even say ‘he’. But when I slipped, Sam didn’t even blink, just asked if it was anyone he knew. I figure that was kind of the giveaway.” Steve made a wry smile and blushed a bit. “Anyways, he said I shouldn’t pass up a chance to be happy, and to go home and tell you how I felt. Practically shoved me out the door, now that I think of it.” 

“First Aunt Peggy, then Wilson. Seems like we were surrounded by matchmakers,” Tony said, shaking his head. “Miriam knew I had a crush on you too, by the way; and I think Clint had some suspicions. I wonder if they set up a betting pool to see when we’d finally get our heads out of the sand?” 

Steve laughed at that, bumping shoulders with Tony. It took all he had not to follow that up with a quick kiss; but they couldn’t, not out in public. Instead, he asked, “Well, sunshine, how about we see if they have _A Princess Bride_ in at the video store on our way back from the Y?”


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once they get the date for the RFP response presentation to the DoD, Tony and Pepper decide to combine the business trip to DC with some sight-seeing, and of course Steve comes along.  
> After an unexpected emotional event, Tony finds a way to make both him and Steve feel better, and a small puzzle piece finally falls into place along the way.

The rest of the month passed all too quickly. Stark Legal had cleared their RFP project from any effects from Nadia’s espionage attempt, so Tony was spending practically every spare minute on getting the finishing touches on the robot prototype done. Pepper had taken charge of the documentation as soon as he finished all the schematics, and was working long hours as well to get every ‘t’ crossed and ‘i’ dotted. 

Steve had started his classes at City College - 20th Century History, Introduction to the Visual Arts of the World, and Intro to Photography. “Bucky was the shutter bug,” Steve explained. “Had an old brownie camera he picked up at a hockshop. He’d alternate between spending his extra cash on girls or film. Sometimes he got lucky and had enough dough for both and he’d take snaps of his latest squeeze. Maybe a pin-up style pose if he could charm her into it. Then he’d try to talk me into using those photos to sketch the girls wearing lingerie or even less.” 

Between Tony’s late nights at SI and Steve’s classes, it felt like they hardly saw each other. Steve insisted they have breakfast together every morning, saying “I need to make sure you have at least one meal a day.” He’d taken to getting up early to make eggs or pancakes or something more substantial than Tony’s usual large coffee and sugary pastry. And Pepper seemed to always have some semi-healthy snack that she’d sneak onto Tony’s workstation when he wasn’t looking. 

Pepper also persisted in planning their weekly “dinner dates”, where the three of them would get together on a Friday night for a meal and conversation, and sometimes a movie. Clint had a sixth sense for when they were ordering pizza and always showed up with a six pack or bottle of something right on time. The first time he came over, Tony was prepared to wave off the amazing coincidence of having one of the federal agents investigating Nadia’s case living next door to them. But Pepper didn’t seem at all surprised; she just greeted their neighbor pleasantly and asked what he’d brought over, so he left things as they were. 

Clint in turn seemed quite unfazed by Steve and Tony’s now-obvious relationship, not blinking an eye when they curled together on the couch. Lucky, however, was a little jealous and would worm his way in between them at any opportunity, only settling down if they were both giving him attention. 

The RFP proposal presentation finally got scheduled with the Department of Defense committee, just barely making the September 30th deadline. Howard had insisted on going thru the materials with them one last time, even though with Obie still being out on ‘administrative leave’, he was twice as busy as before. 

Tony half-expected his father to tear the whole thing apart, but instead he said he thought it was a solid presentation. “Unless they’ve got their heads up their asses down there at the Pentagon, this should win us the contract,” Howard commented, then apologized to Pepper for the rough language. “If I didn’t already have to be in California for the SI West groundbreaking ceremony, I’d come with you.” Tony didn’t know what had come over his father in the last month or so, but he wasn’t going to complain. 

Since Pepper hadn’t been to Washington DC since a high school field trip -- and Steve still wasn’t going to let Tony get too far out of his sight -- the three of them decided to drive down the Friday before their Monday morning meeting and use the weekend for sight-seeing. Tony booked two rooms at a hotel on the Metro line and they made plans, including dinner with Wilson and Miriam Friday evening. 

“I think you’ll really like them,” Tony told Pepper, while they waited. “She’s practically my older sister and he’s a great guy.” 

“I thought you were an only child,” Pepper remarked. 

“She’s the adopted daughter of our live-in help - the Jarvises. She went off to college when I was about ten, but we stayed in touch.” 

“She and Sam got together kind of thanks to me,” Steve added.

“Oh? Do tell....” Tony shot Steve a dirty look as he thought frantically for a moment, trying to remember what they’d already told her about Steve’s background. He hated to lie to her, but...

“Um.. well.... “ Steve stuttered, “I was having some problems when I first got back from serving overseas. Sam was kind of my mentor, and Miriam was my doctor. So I played Cupid a little.” Huh - so Steve could prevaricate on a moment’s notice as well. 

“And is that how you two met, with them introducing you to each other?” Pepper asked.

“I, uh, knew Steve before, through my dad,” Tony hedged, “but yeah, they kind of rekindled the friendship, you could say.” He was saved from further grilling by the arrival of their friends. 

They all had an enjoyable evening, with plenty of conversation that, thankfully, stayed away from past histories. Tony found himself telling a few funny stories about testing the robot prototype -- including the fire extinguisher debacle -- and Steve talked about his photography class. He’d brought his camera along, planning to build up his portfolio. Pepper and Miriam seemed to hit it off well, and made plans to go shopping together the next time Miriam was back in New York. 

The next morning, Pepper signed the three of them up for a sightseeing tour. The trolley picked them up at the Washington Monument, made a stop at the Lincoln Memorial and then drove out to Arlington Cemetery. They got off at the stop for the Memorial Amphitheater and walked over to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier just in time to observe the Changing of the Guard. 

After the ceremony, Pepper wanted to see the nurses memorial, as one of her great-aunts was buried in that section, and Tony walked over to see the Space Shuttle Challenger memorial, which was also close by. Steve followed, studying the map. “Oh,” he said, looking up, and Tony knew instantly what had caught his attention. 

The memorial had been erected and dedicated ten years after Captain America’s disappearance. Funded primarily by Howard, the memorial featured a granite representation of the shield and a plaque with Steve’s full name, birth and (assumed) death date. There was a bouquet of red, white and blue carnations laid at the foot of the stone. 

“I’m so sorry, Steve. I totally forgot this was here. I never would have --” Tony started to apologize, but Steve waved him off. 

“S’ok,” he said, voice gone a bit hoarse. After a moment, he asked quietly, “What about Bucky?” 

“I’m not sure,” Tony replied. “Maybe we can check at the visitor’s center. Here comes Pepper.” 

“Are you alright, Steve? You look white as a ghost.” Pepper put her hand on his forehead. “You’re a bit warm. Let’s go sit in the shade and wait for the next trolley.” She took his hand and led him to a bench. 

As they sat, she put her arm around Steve, and he leaned into her a little. Tony sat down on his other side, and was gratified when Steve reached for his hand. He squeezed it comfortingly, then dropped their clasped hands down to the bench between them, propping one foot on his knee as camouflage while they waited. 

The trolley came by about five minutes later, and they all sat together in the back. When it stopped at the visitor center, Tony stood to exit, but Steve shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.” When Tony sat back down, Steve sighed, “It’s not like he'd really be there anyways.” Pepper gave Tony a questioning look at this exchange, but didn’t say a word. 

Steve was unusually quiet on the ride back to the National Mall. They’d planned to visit the American History museum after getting some lunch, but Tony wondered if that was such a good idea. However, after buying several hot dogs from a cart on the corner of 12th and Madison, Steve’s mood seemed improved. They spent the afternoon in the museum after all, browsing through various exhibits. Pepper disappeared for a short while, but caught up to them just in time for the hourly ceremony in the entrance hall. 

A large section of wall -- emblazoned with a life-size replica of the famous flag -- slid away to reveal the original Star Spangled Banner, over 175 years old. It was huge, every bit of 30 feet tall and perhaps 35 feet wide. Even though he considered himself apolitical, Tony couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride, not only for the flag itself, but also for those who had thought to preserve it. They put their hands over their hearts as the national anthem played over the PA system. 

Pepper had made plans to meet with some friends who lived in the DC area that evening, so Steve and Tony returned to the hotel. As soon as they were in their room, Steve enveloped Tony in a bear hug, letting out a huge sigh. 

“Rough day, hon?” 

“Yeah. The cemetery kinda blindsided me. But the museum was nice. Spent most of my time in the art museums when I was here last month. Just wish we coulda been more... you know... like a couple. Holding hands and stuff.” 

“Me too, Steve.” Then Tony had an idea. He leafed through the alternative newspaper he’d picked up in the lobby. Surely this type of publication would have a listing.... Yep, right there on page 7. “Feel like going out dancing, sunshine?” 

Neither of them had ideal clothing to go clubbing, but Tony did the best he could with what was available. A plain white button down, with a couple of extra undone buttons and the sleeves rolled up to the elbows for Steve, and while he was tempted to go with just the vest from his suit, Tony threw on a black tour t-shirt underneath. Jeans and sneakers would have to complete the ensemble. 

He stopped in a drugstore along the way to pick up a few supplies. Once they were parked, Tony spiked his hair up with some mousse, then got out the eyeliner. “Here, let me,” Steve said, as Tony squinted in the rear-view mirror and tried not to poke his eye out with the pencil. “I used to help the girls with their makeup on tour.” And with an artist’s touch, he expertly traced Tony’s lashline, smudging the edges lightly. 

Steve then rolled up Tony’s sleeve and started drawing something on his upper arm. It became a stylized shield, with angular initials “SGR” scrawled across it. “Next time I’ll use my markers. It’ll be in color and won’t rub off so easy,” he murmured, low and possessive. Tony shivered with pleasure at both Steve’s tone and the thought of a more permanent mark. Maybe even another tattoo...

People congregated outside the clubs and cafes all along the block, and Tony was relieved to see quite a few same-sex couples in the crowd. The ‘Gay and Lesbian Nightlife’ section in the paper had provided several listings in the Dupont Circle neighborhood, and they took their time walking up and down the street. Tony noticed just how many passers-by were checking Steve out, and decided he’d better stake his claim. Steve startled slightly, then glanced down at their joined hands with a smile, giving a fond squeeze in return. 

They finally decided to try their luck at a place called Cobalt. Between the smoke, the loud music and the apparent lack of air conditioning, Tony expected Steve to recoil at the sheer sensory overload. But as they entered the main room, he looked for all the world like a general surveying a battleground. Once he had his bearings, Steve took Tony’s hand and they headed for the dance floor. 

Steve may have claimed not to know how to dance, but that apparently only applied to something like the foxtrot or the cha-cha. He had a fantastic sense of rhythm and the grace and economy of movement he showed on the climbing wall translated well to this environment. Tony in turn let the music wash over him, feeling the beat in every fiber of his being. 

The place was maybe three-quarters full, but the dance floor was already crowded; Tony and Steve kept close as much out of necessity as desire. It didn’t take long to work up a sweat as they moved together to the music. It was too loud on the dance floor to exchange more than a few words at a time, and after about a half an hour, they stepped over to the bar, where it was a little quieter. 

The bartender asked what they were having, pointing out the specials on the chalkboard. “What’s the ‘Prairie Fire’?” Tony asked. 

“Tequila and Tabasco,” he responded. “Not for the faint of heart.” 

“I’ll try one,” Steve said. “How bad can it be?” Tony was driving, so he stuck with a soda. Steve tossed back the shot, and promptly went red in the face. “Okay, that was bad,” he gasped, grabbing for and downing the rest of Tony’s drink, ice and all. After a few moments, he shook himself all over, and grinned wolfishly at Tony. “Wanna cut the rug some more, sugar?” 

Steve practically dragged him back out on the dance floor, and proceeded to get even more up close and personal, pressing his body close to Tony's, his hands running all over and stealing the occasional kiss. They weren’t the most outrageous couple out there, but it was borderline embarrassing. And then it finally clicked - the cause and effect that had been itching in the back of his brain. “Take it down a notch or two, sunshine. We’re putting on a show,” Tony said, hoping to be heard above the thumping bassline. 

“Let ‘em look,” Steve replied into Tony’s ear, following up with a nip and swipe of the tongue. However, s much as certain parts of Tony were enjoying the fun; his cooler head prevailed, so he took Steve’s arm to lead him into a quiet corner. 

“Mm - finding us somewhere a little more private, darlin’?” Steve asked as he slid a hand over Tony's hip to pull him close. 

“Steve, you’re drunk,” Tony stated. 

“No ‘m not,” he protested. “Can’t get drunk - I tried before. Whole bottle of whisky ‘n nothin’.” 

“Maybe not alcohol, but something’s got you a bit tipsy,” Tony patiently explained, “and I think I know what it is. Remember when I said that some spicy food releases feel-good chemicals in the brain?” Steve nodded, with an amused grin. “Well, that process seems to have an increased effect on you, for some reason.” 

Steve kissed him on the nose. “ ‘S’bout time you figured that out, darlin’. I was startin’ to wonder just what kind of a genius you were.” 

“What?! Son of a bitch... when did you ... how long have you known?” Flabbergasted, Tony pushed Steve away in mock-offense. 

Steve ducked his head, trying to look ashamed, but not quite succeeding. “It took a bit to figure out. Wasn’t sure if it was just me bein’ so gone over you or what. I guess it was at Sam’s, after the Chinese food and ‘fessing up about my crush on you that it finally made sense. And it’s not really like being drunk - more like ramping up whatever I’m already feeling and making me not care what other people think about it.” 

“Loss of inhibitions, that makes sense,” Tony mused. “And no hangover, right? Big bonus there. Is it anything hot, or just specific foods?” 

“If it makes my tongue tingle, it’ll get the rest of me goin’,” Steve smirked. “Wanna do some experiments?” 

“I’ll see if we can order buffalo wings to go,” Tony replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah - a bit of an emotional roller coaster this chapter, hmm? 
> 
> FYI - the ride will continue into the next chapter, which (no surprise) contains another Interlude.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interaction at the club leads to a change in Steve and Tony's DC sight-seeing plans, and Pepper goes off on her own for a little while before the three of them meet back up in the afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As before, the interlude is not necessary to the plot, just a bit of sexytime. Read at your own desire.

As Tony was placing his order at the bar, another patron came over with a clipboard. “We’re looking for volunteers to help lay out The Quilt tomorrow morning. Are you available?” 

“The quilt?” Tony asked. 

“The AIDS Memorial Quilt. It’s back in town after a nineteen-city tour. We’re setting it up on the Ellipse in front of the White House. With nearly ten thousand panels, we need all the help we can get.” 

“Uh, sorry. I’m from out of town and I already have plans...” Tony said apologetically. 

“Oh,” the man replied flatly, looking him up and down. “I see. Well, hope you’re enjoying your weekend out of the closet.” He pulled something from his jacket pocket and pressed it into Tony’s hand. “For gods’ sake, at least be safe.” He turned away from Tony and approached the next person coming up to the bar. 

Tony had seen news stories about the Quilt, of course, and how the handmade panels commemorated loved ones lost to the epidemic. It had always seemed something distant; sad, yes, but not something that had much to do with him. Maybe he’d been wrong. 

Tony looked to see what the man had given him, small, crinkly packages which turned out to be a couple of condoms. He hastily stuffed them into his pocket, hoping the dim lighting hid his blush, as Steve came up behind him. Steve placed his hands around Tony’s waist and rested his chin on Tony’s shoulder. “How long we gotta wait and what can we get up to in the meanwhile?” he asked, nuzzling at Tony’s neck and providing a welcome distraction.

“Cool your jets, hotshot,” Tony responded fondly. “They said about five minutes, they’re frying up a new batch now. Still riding the hot sauce high, I see...” 

“Not so much,” Steve replied. “It’s just nice to get to make a little time with you and not worry about who’s looking. We oughta find a couple of places like this back home.” 

Tony sighed, “Might not be a good idea, sunshine. Too many nosy folks with cameras in the city. No one really knows who I am here.” He’d truly come to resent his semi-celebrity status since he and Steve had gotten together. 

“S’ok, sweetheart,” Steve kissed him on the cheek. “Maybe we can hop back on down for the weekend sometime again.” 

A few minutes later, the bartender handed over a bag with two boxes of wings and a handful of napkins. They went back out to the car and started the drive back to the hotel. Steve dug into the to-go bag, and based on the rate he was consuming them, the wings were apparently a hit. 

However, in the confines of the vehicle, the smell of the food combined with the smoke and sweat lingering on their bodies was a little strong. Tony rolled down the windows, saying “Ugh - okay, first on the agenda is getting cleaned up.” 

“We could save a little time and do it together, doll,” Steve commented. “The shower in the hotel is plenty big enough.” He placed a hand on Tony’s thigh and started moving his fingers in slow circles. 

“You are a trial and an affliction, Steven Grant Rogers,” Tony replied with a laugh. “And you’d better not be leaving sauce stains on my jeans.” As they paused at a stoplight, he leaned over for a quick kiss; the car behind them eventually blowing its horn, as Tony had gotten just the slightest bit distracted. 

Even with one hand busy holding the now-decimated bag of take-out, Steve still managed to get Tony’s vest unbuttoned and shirt pulled all askew in the few minutes they had alone in the elevator. The food was abandoned on the dresser and a trail of clothing was quickly left behind on their way to the suite’s bathroom.

[ Interlude ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10444104/chapters/23626875)

Pleasantly exhausted, they polished off the remaining wings before getting ready for bed. “Thanks for washing my hair, sunshine,” Tony murmured, sliding under the sheets next to his beloved. That had felt nearly as good as everything else they’d gotten up to in the surprisingly spacious shower enclosure, Tony thought. 

“My pleasure, sweetheart. Just returning the favor from awhile back.” Steve lazily replied, cuddling Tony tight as they watched some late night television. 

“Oh, so you were awake for that, too?” Tony asked, “Hardly seems a fair trade - that spray shampoo wasn’t that great.” 

“Just enjoyed the attention. Still can’t believe I got so lucky.” 

“I’m the lucky one here, honeybun. But I can’t keep my eyes open for much longer. G’night.” Tony felt a soft kiss on his forehead before he drifted off to sleep.

The phone rang entirely too early the next morning. Tony burrowed further under the covers, and after three rings, Steve picked up the handset. 

“Hello?” How the man could sound not only alert, but downright pleasant right after waking up was unbelievable. Maybe it was the serum. “Oh, hi, Pepper.” “Well, sure. That’s fine with us. Go have fun and we’ll see you later.” “Bye.” 

Steve hung up the phone and spooned up behind Tony. “That was Pepper. Her friends from last night invited her to brunch. She said she thinks she’ll be back here around three.” Tony made a vague mmph of acknowledgement. “Want me to order coffee from room service?” Tony mm-hmmed his agreement. 

As Steve called for breakfast and made himself presentable, Tony thought about what the guy in the club had said to him the night before. It was true, after all, he was in the closet, and probably would be for the foreseeable future. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t do some good in the meanwhile. There would be probably someone at the display he could talk to, find out more about what they were doing and how he could help. Maybe he could even get his mother involved - heaven knew she’d love to hobnob with the likes of Elizabeth Taylor and Elton John. 

So once he had enough coffee in his system to allow for coherent speech, he asked, “Hey, do you mind if we make a slight change in plans today?” 

“That’s fine, but I thought you really wanted to see the Air and Space museum.” 

“I do, there’s just somewhere I want to go first.” 

They got to the Ellipse early enough to see that the volunteers were still working on laying out the Quilt. Adding in the walkways between the twelve-foot square blocks, it covered nearly the entire area -- seventeen acres, as they found out later. Tony had explained to Steve what they were going to see on the way over, but neither of them had any idea what the visceral impact of seeing thousands of panels laid out across such a vast expanse would be. 

“Why isn’t this all over the news?” Steve asked. “Why aren’t they trying harder to find a cure?” 

“Because AIDS usually just kills junkies and faggots,” a voice said from behind them. “And the men in power don’t give a good goddamn about people like that. Like us.” Tony turned to see the guy from the club. “Changed your mind, kid?” In the light of day, Tony could see how gaunt and pale he was; obviously he had a much deeper stake in this fight than Tony had realized. 

“Yeah,” he replied firmly. “What can we do to help?” They were directed to the far edge of the Ellipse, where they helped unfold the blocks of panels, stretching them out and tapping stakes into the grommets at the corners. They also helped with laying out the runners for the walkways that allowed visitors to move among the thousands panels. 

It wasn’t easy work. Both the physical effort -- it was surprisingly hot and humid for an autumn day -- and the emotional impact took a toll. Each six-foot by three foot panel represented a commemoration of a life, with text and photos, fabrics and colors, and even mementoes like a hockey jersey or a stuffed animal. Tony found himself tracing over the letters and numbers of the names (sometimes only first names) and dates. A few of the panels had his own birth year listed. 

After they finished their assigned work, Steve and Tony spent the better part of two hours walking between the panels, reading names and piecing together histories. It was absolutely heartbreaking to see so many lives cut short, so many dreams unfulfilled. Tony finally asked to leave, and Steve nodded in agreement. They found a quiet cafe, and with the relative privacy of a corner booth, were able to talk a little about what they’d seen. 

Steve was reminded of the polio outbreaks of his childhood. “Every summer so many people would get sick, almost at random, and there wasn’t much of anything doctors could do for them. We’d go back to school in the fall only to discover that one or two kids had died, or were still so sick that they couldn’t come to class. Polly O’Meara, who lived one floor down from Ma ‘n me made it through, but she was lame in one leg for the rest of the time I knew her. I still dunno how I avoided it - seems like I caught everything else that came around.” Tony briefly patted his hand; they’d already tangled their feet together, which was about the only physical contact they’d decided was safe enough for public spaces. 

Regaining a bit of equilibrium after lunch, Tony called the hotel from a pay phone and left a message for Pepper to meet them at the Air and Space museum. As they waited for her in the entrance hall, they looked up at the Spirit of St. Louis, suspended from the high ceiling. “Got to meet Lindbergh once,” Steve commented. “Boy, was he a piece of work. We almost came to blows when he tried to recruit me to his America First group. I’m glad FDR wouldn’t let him back into the military.” 

This wasn’t the first time that Steve had shared his political views; which were something that Howard had conveniently left out of his personal histories of Captain America. 

Once Pepper arrived, they spent the afternoon exploring the exhibits. Tony still marveled at how quickly the technology of flight had advanced from the Wright Brothers first flights in 1903 to the biplanes of World War I in just over a decade. Obie was right - wartime always spurred technological innovation; but at the cost of so many lives and widespread destruction, Tony wondered it if was worth it, after all. 

As they worked their way through the Space Race exhibit, Tony told them about being at Cape Kennedy for the maiden launch of the Space Shuttle Columbia, as Howard had done some preliminary design work for NASA. “We should head down to Florida for Discovery’s launch in January. I’m sure we could get right on base again - it’s probably too late to get in on the Atlantis launch in November, though.” 

The museum closed at five o’clock, and after taking the metro back to the hotel, they decided to make an early night of it, as Pepper and Tony had their big presentation Monday morning. The three of them ordered in pizza and rested their feet as they talked over their sight-seeing experiences. That night, just as the two of them were settling in, Tony asked Steve what was on his mind. He’d been a little off all afternoon; nothing too obvious, but it had caught Tony’s attention. 

“What if... there’s something in the serum, something in my blood that could be used to help with HIV research?” Steve asked. “Erskine said it boosted my ability to fight disease, and I never got sick while we were out in the field. Do you think Miriam or Sam know anyone who could look into that?” 

Tony admired the sentiment; but at the same time feared that Steve would get pulled in too deep -- made into a top-secret research subject and lose the freedom he had fought so fiercely for. Besides, he had a ominous feeling that his father was already doing research using those blood samples that Aunt Peggy had asked after months ago. 

“We can ask," Tony replied. "But for now, let's get some sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah - getting a bit political again. The AIDS Memorial Quilt is a powerful reminder of lives lost; I've only seen small parts of it in person and was brought to tears.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Pepper give their proposal response presentation and prototype demonstration, the latter with the surprise assistance of an old friend. They run into another acquaintance on their way out of the Pentagon, and Pepper has some questions for Tony and Steve.
> 
> ETA: 5/30/17 -- Head over to the [ companion fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10444104/chapters/24601746) if you want an update on Clint and 'Nadia'

Tony had conceded to his father’s advice and ordered a towncar to take them to the Pentagon for their presentation on Monday morning. Without the distraction of driving, he found his nerves getting the better of him; as he and Pepper sat in the backseat, she placed a hand on his knee to still his restless jittering. 

“Tony. Calm down,” she said soothingly. “Everything will be fine. Showmanship runs in your blood.” She looked calm and collected, wearing what he was pretty sure was the same grey suit from her first day at SI. He was dressed in his own favorite suit with a patriotic tie; he figured it couldn’t hurt to wave the red, white and blue when working with the military. 

“You’re sure we have everything we need for the presentation?” he asked. She gestured toward the briefcase and laptop case sitting on the floor between them and patted his knee again. 

“Yes. I double-checked the slides last night, and Lieutenant Colonel Phillips confirmed that the prototype arrived safely Friday afternoon. He said they’d have it fully charged in time for the demonstration.” 

Chester Phillips the Third -- ‘Trip’ to his friends -- was not only Stark Industries’ military liaison, but the grandson of Colonel Phillips, co-founder of SHIELD along with Howard Stark and Peggy Carter. About twenty years Tony’s senior, Phillips nonetheless had treated Tony with respect during their prior meetings, so he trusted Phillips to do right by SI as well as the country. 

The lieutenant colonel met them at the main visitor’s entrance to the complex and handed over their badges after they’d passed through security. “I think everything’s good to go on our end, Stark,” Phillips said. “My newest staffer is looking after your prototype. He’s a flyboy, but he went to MIT before the Academy, so he seemed to know what he was doing.” Tony was itching to check it over himself, but there wasn’t time. 

Phillips showed them to the conference room, and they had about twenty minutes to prepare. Tony set up the slide projector while Pepper placed the handouts at each seat, making small talk to help calm their nerves. They’d planned this portion to take about an hour. “That is, if you remember to breathe between your sentences, Tony.” Pepper teased. “Otherwise we’ll be out of here in about fifteen minutes.” He appreciated the distraction. 

Once again, Tony and Pepper split the responsibilities of the presentation, taking turns covering the technical details and the financial and logistic elements. The eight-man committee took notes and asked a few clarifying questions that were easily answered. They seemed particularly impressed by the sentry mode, where -- after placing markers along the border of a given area -- the robot would patrol the border independently, with motion sensors triggering its camera and either recording photos and video or sending it back to a central monitoring system. 

“Gentlemen, we do have a prototype of our Semi-Autonomous Multi-Functional Robot - or SAMFR on site. Lieutenant Colonel Phillips, would you be so kind?” Phillips rattled off a location that presumably made sense to everyone else, following it with a “we’ll meet there at 11:15.” Phillips then led Tony and Pepper to the the northeastern side of central courtyard, where not only was the prototype ready to go, but a familiar face was there to greet them as well.

“Son of a .... Rhodey! What in blue blazes are you doing here?” Tony exclaimed, shaking his best friend’s hand effusively in place of the bear hug he’d rather have given him. Phillips seemed nonplussed. 

“You two know each other?” he asked. 

“Yes, sir,” Rhodey responded. “We went to MIT together for a couple of years.” He turned to Tony. “See why I didn’t want to jinx it? Say hello to Second Lieutenant James R. Rhodes, deputy liaison to Stark Industries. I asked your father to let me give you the good news.” 

“Congratulations, pal!” Tony couldn’t have been happier; not only did Rhodey get a promotion, but he’d be safe at home instead of flying over the volatile Mideast. “Ms. Potts, this is my best friend in all the world, Jim Rhodes, aka Rhodey. Rhodey, meet the person without whom this project would never have gotten farther than chicken scratches on a cocktail napkin, Ms. Virginia Potts.” 

“So, you’re the infamous ‘Rhodey’,” Pepper commented as they shook hands. 

“Oh, no... Tones, what lies have you told this lovely lady?” Rhodey complained, holding her hand perhaps a bit longer than common courtesy would recommend. “Don’t believe him, miss. I’m a fine, upstanding young man with a bright future ahead of me ... at least according to my mother.” 

Pepper laughed in reply. “I can definitely see why you and Mr. Stark get along so well together.” As the committee members approached, she continued, “However, we have a demonstration to perform here, so let’s disband the mutual admiration society for now.” 

SAMFR performed admirably. Tony used the remote control to maneuver the robot around the courtyard, weaving between various obstacles and driving over the curbs with ease. He demonstrated the camera’s capabilities, sending the signal to a laptop that Pepper was manning. Lastly, they set up the perimeter markers around one of the patios and let SAMFR run its patrol program. The committee members actually applauded when Tony initiated the retrieval program and SAMFR picked up each of the markers in turn and navigated successfully back to its starting place. 

“This concludes the Stark Industries response to RFP 1991.042. Thank you for your time and we look forward to hearing the committee’s decision.” Tony announced, trying not to sigh in relief. It was over -- they’d done their best, despite the obstacles Fate had thrown in their way. 

Tony had been so busy that he hadn’t even noticed a bystander had joined the observers. And while they’d never formally met, Tony knew exactly who he was. Phillips made the introduction, saying “Deputy Director Fury, this is Tony Stark, of Stark Industries. Tony, meet Nick Fury, deputy director of SHIELD.” 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Stark,” Fury said, gripping Tony’s hand firmly. But he wasn’t asserting his dominance, like Pierce had. Instead, it was somehow a show of strength offered as support. 

“Should I be concerned about that, sir?” Tony responded, and Fury cracked a smile. 

“Naw, I don’t think so.” Phillips then introduced Pepper, and Fury bowed slightly as he took her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, miss. As someone who knows Tony’s father pretty well, I should warn you that the Starks aren’t always easy to work with.” 

“I agree, but I believe I’m up to the challenge, sir,” she replied, holding his gaze. Fury gave her a small nod before turning to Phillips. “If I could have a few moments of your time, Trip ....” The two of them walked back to the building, and the remaining committee members took their leave as well. 

Tony and Pepper followed Rhodey as they wheeled SAMFR back to the secure storage area where its charging station and packing crate were located. As Tony started to tell his friend exactly how to repack the robot, he interrupted with a laugh. “You are such a mother hen with your creations, Tony! I swear, it’s like you and Dum-E all over again!” 

“Dummy?” Pepper asked, and Tony realized he hadn’t shown her his favorite ‘bot yet. 

“Remind me when we get back to the city - I have someone to introduce you to.” She gave him an intrigued look. They stopped in the cafeteria for lunch, and as they were signing out at the security desk, a brash voice behind them said, “Well, if it isn’t Anthony Stark.” Tony looked up and yes, of course, it was his least-favorite person in the world. 

“Justin Hammer,” he replied, “What brings you here today?” 

“Same thing as you, my man. That potentially oh-so-lucrative RFP.” Tony was absurdly pleased to see the smirk on Hammer’s face dissolve as he realized who the person standing next to Tony was. 

“Ms Potts, may I introduce Justin Hammer, of Hammer Enterprises?” Tony said, repressing his own smirk. “Justin, this is the project manager on the Stark Industries response to said RFP, Ms. Virginia Potts.” 

She extended her hand. “I believe we’ve already met; although the formal introduction is appreciated.” 

“No, wait... this is.... this is sneaky shit, that’s what this is!” Hammer ranted. “You sent her to spy on me at that party, Stark! ” 

“If I remember correctly,” Pepper replied, “you cut in on Mr. Stark and monopolized me for the rest of the evening without bothering to ask who I was or what I did for a living. I could barely get a word in edgewise.” 

“It’s still insider information,” he blustered. “I’m going to talk to my lawyers and get your proposal thrown out!” 

“Just make sure you tell your legal team that you disclosed confidential information about a military project to a complete stranger while at an event hosted by the wife of your main business rival,” Pepper responded coolly. “I, on the other hand, made a complete statement to our legal team first thing the following Monday morning. The transcript of that conversation was included as part of our proposal response, along with an affidavit from the DoD Independent Verification and Validation team confirming that the information in no way impacted our response.” Tony very nearly applauded as she continued to stare Hammer down (quite literally, as the heels she wore gave her a good inch on him) while his liaison, a young major, looked supremely uncomfortable. 

“Mr. Hammer, sir,” the major finally said quietly. “We should get going; otherwise we’ll be late.” 

“This isn’t over, Stark.” Hammer snarled, his face dull red with anger. “This is not over!” He stalked off, the major following in his wake. 

They waited until Hammer was out of sight before Pepper burst out in a quick laugh. “Good lord, Tony! Did you see the vein on Hammer’s forehead throbbing? I thought he was going to have a stroke!” 

“Thank god you only use your powers for good, Ms. Potts,” Tony replied, coughing to cover his own laughter. 

“You seem to attract that sort of person,” she said cryptically. “We’d better call for the car.” 

Once they were on the beltway, Pepper asked out of the blue, “Tony, how old is Steve?” 

“Um, twenty-three, I think?” Tony responded, taken aback by the randomness of her question. “His birthday isn’t til July -- plenty of time to shop.” 

“Are you sure he isn’t older? Like, maybe, a lot older?” Her expression had gone quite serious and it threw him for a loop. 

“Not sure I’m following you, Pep. Why do you ask?” he replied cautiously. She reached into the briefcase and pulled out a One-Hour Photo envelope. She took two pictures out and handed them to Tony. 

One was of him and Steve from the weekend, standing in front of the Washington Monument. They’d been doing their best Uncle Sam imitation, pointing at the camera and trying to keep straight faces. The second photo was of a Captain America poster, featuring Steve in nearly the same pose. While he was wearing the cowl in the poster, the resemblance was unmistakable. 

“I think you skipped one of the exhibits at the American History museum,” she said quietly, passing over the rest of the photos. There were snapshots of over a dozen pictures, drawings and other portrayals of Captain America. Several of them showed his full face, and again, there was no denying the comparison, especially mixed in with the other photographs of Steve from their sightseeing tour. 

As Tony looked through the photos, she watched him closely, perhaps for signs of surprise or confusion. But instead, he was impressed with the thoroughness of her research, and her acceptance of the improbable. 

“I went to the Library of Congress yesterday morning, instead of brunch. They had a couple of newsreels on a loop. The way he stands, his gestures - they’re the same,” she continued, keeping her voice low. “I even listened to a radio show that featured him - the voice wasn’t quite a match, but that could have been the fault of the recording.” 

Tony noticed she’d been very careful not to mention ‘Captain America’ or Steve’s full name - just in case their driver was overly nosy. She’d obviously figured out there was a reason his identity was being kept a secret. “But it seems you already knew all this,” she finished. 

“Yeah,” Tony responded, feeling both relief and guilt. He hadn’t liked keeping secrets from her. “It all started several months ago. But since it’s a long story, let’s wait til we get back to the hotel.” 

Steve was stretched out on the bed, reading when Tony entered their suite, followed by Pepper. “Hey, sweetheart,” he smiled. “How’d it go?” 

“Pretty well,” Tony replied. “I’ve got some good news, but I think Pepper has something she wants to talk about first.” Steve put the book down, and moved to sit on the side of the bed. 

“Part of me wants to be sarcastic,” Pepper began, “like wondering why you thought it was a good idea to keep your name, or saying you’re looking pretty spry for being, what, in your seventies?” Steve tensed at that, looking at Tony for an explanation. Tony just shrugged a little. 

“But I can hardly blame you for keeping this kind of secret,” she continued. “After all, who would believe that a war hero who was assumed to have disappeared in the Arctic almost fifty years ago, would be not only alive and well, but not look as if he had aged a day.” 

She sat down, taking a deep breath. “Do I even want to know how? Or am I already in too deep and Agent Barton’s going to come busting through the door and drag me off to who knows where?” Her voice went a little wavery on the last couple of words, and Tony hurried to reassure her. 

“Aw, c’mon Pep, I hope you know us better than that. Yes, Steve’s identity is a secret, but I promise no one’s getting dragged off anywhere.” At Steve’s nod, Tony gave her the Cliffs Notes version of the story -- that his father found Steve miraculously alive in the wreck of the Valkyrie, how Wilson and Miriam’s care took him through the recovery process and that the former director of SHIELD helped establish a new identity for him. Steve added on to the story from his viewpoint, finally adding that he wasn’t ready to be Captain America until he had a better understanding of what this America stood for. 

“And that’s why I’m laying low for now,” Steve explained. “I don’t want to become a lab rat, or a propaganda tool again or, heaven forbid, a weapon. But it’s your call, Pepper. If you think the world needs to know Captain America has returned, I won’t stop you. 

She shook her head in disbelief. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Yes, I’m still a little upset that you lied to me -- although if I think back, you never actually lied, you just didn’t tell all the truth.” She glared at Tony before leaning across to takes Steve’s hands, “But I respect your right to privacy and to living your life as you see fit. You don’t owe the world anything, Steve Rogers.” She placed a solemn kiss on his forehead. “Now, let’s celebrate a little.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so excited to be able to bring Rhodey back to the east coast! And isn't Pepper clever...


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony, Steve, Pepper and Rhodey go out for a celebratory dinner; a nightmare leads to a minor confession. Tony reaches out to a mentor and makes a not-so-surprising discovery. Tony tries to talk to Howard about it, but a bad penny shows back up and thwarts the attempt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news everyone - this fic is FINISHED! (Except for one Steve/Tony interlude). The chapter count is now finalized at 42 and the total word count for the fic is somewhere around 90k. (O_o!) My awesome beta and I are finishing up the edits and I can't wait to share the rest of it with you!  
> HOWEVER, there won't be a chapter update next week, as I will be on holiday and not have access to my computer. :^(  
> The good news is that once I do get back - I can resume twice-weekly updates, which should get us to the end of the story at the end of this month.

“Before we make any plans,” Tony interrupted, “I’ve got some good news. Not only did the presentation and demo go extremely well, guess who we ran into at the Pentagon? Rhodey! The sneaky SOB got himself assigned as deputy liaison to Stark Industries.” 

“Really?” Steve exclaimed, “That’s great! Why don’t we invite him along to dinner, then? 

Tony called Phillips’ office and asked to be connected to the lieutenant. “Are you busy tonight, pal?” he asked. “We’re trying to decide what to do about dinner tonight - want to come along?” 

“Is Ms. Potts going to be there?” Rhodey asked a little too casually, and Tony smiled. 

“Why yes, I believe so. Any suggestions?” 

“I know just the place, if you’re in the mood for steak. It’s a bit off the beaten path, so it shouldn’t be too busy. I’ll meet you there about seven.” He gave them the name and general location and they got directions from the hotel front desk. 

It didn’t look like much from the outside, but once they entered, the dark wood and lush upholstery reminded Tony of his father’s study. The hostess was pleasant and, once Rhodey arrived, she guided them to a table and passed out the menus. 

Tony told Rhodey about Pepper’s detective work into Steve’s background, so he knew they could all speak freely. “If you weren’t such a crackerjack project manager, Pep,” Tony commented, “I’d recommend you look into joining SHIELD. You’d make a great analyst, and your nerves of steel would qualify you nicely for an agent position.” 

“I’d be more than happy to teach you how to shoot, Miss Potts,” Rhodey offered politely. 

“Too late, “Pepper replied. “Dad’s been taking me out to the range since I was knee high to a grasshopper. Shotgun skeet and pistol target shooting. I was top of my age bracket in both disciplines four years running.” Tony suppressed a laugh at Rhodey’s face; his pal couldn’t decide whether to be intimidated or ever more infatuated. 

“Sounds like maybe you could teach me a thing or two instead,” Rhodey replied, with just a hint of a wink. Smooth recovery, Tony thought. Shame he’s barking up the wrong tree. 

“How about we see what’s on the menu?” Tony asked, figuring it was time to change the subject. 

Rhodey pointed towards an entry, saying “Thought you might be interested in this, Cap.” It was a Steak Dinner Challenge: consume a 72 ounce steak, a baked potato, side salad and a roll all within an hour and you get the meal for free, otherwise they charge $50. 

Steve gave Rhodey a narrow look. “I feel like I should resent the insinuation here, Lieutenant.” 

“Aw, c’mon - I remember how many rolls you packed away at the pub when you thought no-one was looking.” Rhodey teased. “I think the waitress wanted to pat us down before we left -- probably thought we were smuggling them out in our pockets!” 

Steve laughed. “Okay, you got me there. What do you think?” he asked, looking at Tony and Pepper. They both encouraged him to try, so when the waitress came to take their orders, Steve signed up. 

They hadn’t realized he’d be escorted to a separate table -- ‘to discourage sharing’ and that the waitstaff would make such a production of it. Steve wasn’t fond of the spotlight and looked downright uncomfortable. Tony felt awful that he’d talked Steve into it, and Rhodey mouthed an apology as the hostess made the announcement. 

But Steve played along, tying the provided cloth napkin bib under his chin, and digging in as soon as the platter was set in front of him. The rest of their meals appeared at roughly the same time, so Tony focused on his own plate. The steak was excellent, and Tony discovered he was a lot hungrier than he’d thought. 

Steve finished the last few bits of the potato with about three minutes to spare, placing his silverware and the napkin neatly on the oversized plate. The waitstaff erupted in applause, and he blushed slightly. “Could I take a look at at the dessert menu?” he asked, enjoying their look of shock. 

After Steve got his photo taken and handshakes from what seemed like the entire staff of the restaurant, cooks included, the four of them spent another hour or so in the bar of the steakhouse, just chatting back and forth. 

“You know,” Steve said, a wistful note in his voice, “back in the day, that much food could have lasted me and Bucky the better part of a week, given a few extra potatoes and some more bread.”

“You were a bit smaller then, Cap,” Tony commented, trying to lighten the tone. 

“Yeah, I s’pose so,” he replied with a sigh. At the lull in conversation, Rhodey took the opportunity to tell a few tales of his and Tony’s MIT days, picking the most embarrassing moments, of course. Tony played along, willing to be the butt of the jokes if it meant the people he cared about most were getting to know one another better. 

Rhodey in particular was definitely interested in getting to know Pepper better. She was going for a casual look that evening that suited her quite well; a soft, loose, cream-colored top and her hair pulled back in a ponytail. But Tony knew his pal was interested in more than just a pretty face; Pepper was just the kind of smart, capable woman that Rhodey was a complete sucker for. And Pepper appeared to be enjoying the mild flirtation between them, so Tony stayed out of it for now. 

While Steve did ask that they stop by a drug store for a bottle of Pepto-Bismol on the way back to the hotel, he seemed otherwise unfazed by the meal, saying that the steak had been “awfully good”. But once they were back in their room, he stretched and rubbed his eyes sleepily.

“It was nice to see Rhodes again,” Steve commented, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. “He’s a good guy. I’m glad you’ve had someone like him watching out for you.” 

“Are you saying I need a minder, sunshine?” Tony teased, but there was a grain of truth there. He knew he would have struggled even more during his college years without Rhodey’s help. 

“S’not what I meant, sweetheart,” Steve replied. “No one should have to get by on their own. Bucky told me that, after my mom’s funeral.” 

“Well, between you, Rhodey and Pepper, I think I’m pretty well covered. And pretty damn lucky, too.” He kissed Steve, “Now, let’s call it a night.” 

 

Tony startled awake, disoriented and unsure what had awakened him. He looked around the darkened room, realizing they were still in DC. Steve -- who normally slept like a log -- was restless, his twitches must have been what woke Tony. 

“Steve? You awake?” Tony softly asked. He didn’t reply; but his breathing grew fitful and the small, erratic movements continued. Perhaps he was having a nightmare? “Shh... it’s okay, sweetheart,” he continued, gently running a hand over Steve’s arm to try to soothe him. “It’s just a dream.” 

“Nnnnn,” Steve murmured, a sound of denial and fear. Another indistinct moan rose from his throat, louder and more insistent. He stiffened, then with a gasp, he was awake as well, chest heaving. Steve turned to Tony, who caught a glimpse of inconsolable loss on his beloved’s face before being enveloped in an almost crushing embrace. 

“Whoa, sunshine, everything’s gonna be fine, I’m right here, “ Tony reassured him, stroking his hands down Steve’s back. “But I do kinda need to breathe.” Steve’s hold loosened just enough, and with his face buried in the crook of Tony’s neck, he mumbled out an apology. 

“I thought I’d gotten it out of my system, that dream,” he continued. “It started out the same way it always does, with me and Bucky back on the train. There’s a Hydra soldier with one of those energy weapons. The first blast blows out the side of the car and knocks us both down. Then Buck picks up the shield and starts firing back with his service pistol.”

“The next blast ...” and Tony felt him choke back a sob, “he’s holding on for dear life, just out of my reach. I try, dear God I try. Every time I think if I can just stretch a little more, I can reach him and everything will be all right. But this time around it wasn’t Bucky, it was you. I had to watch you fall, just like I’ve watched him, over and over. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. There never is.” 

“Your painting,” Tony said, almost involuntarily, remembering that compelling image. Steve raised his head to give Tony a bewildered look. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Tony apologized. “It was while you were here helping Aunt Peg and Wilson. I was a little tipsy and my curiosity got the better of me. I missed you so much, and wanted to see what you were pouring yourself into -- not that that’s an excuse. Even without knowing the story, I could tell the painting was something powerful and personal. It’s an amazing piece of art. But I know that I violated your privacy, and that was wrong. I won’t do it again.” 

He felt as much as heard Steve’s sigh. “I forgive you for being a bit of a snoop, sweetheart.” A gentle kiss followed, which he returned in kind. Why don’t we try to get a little more sleep?” Tony agreed, nudging Steve into a slightly more comfortable position for them both. 

They started their drive home early the next morning, as Steve wanted to be back in time for his afternoon class. On the drive home, Tony found himself mulling over Steve’s suggestion of investigating whether the serum could be used to combat HIV. He wished Stark Industries had a biological R&D department, but then recalled the overheard phone call. Howard had mentioned ‘medical terms’ when talking to Radcliffe as well as a familiar name. Tony called Peggy when they got home and got not only a phone number but an address. “Do I want to know why you need this information, Anthony?” she asked.

“Let me see if the idea pans out first, Aunt Peggy. Thanks.” 

 

“Doctor Samberly, do you have a few minutes?” Tony asked as he entered the lab late that afternoon. A tall, broad man about his father’s age turned and broke into a wide smile. 

“Tony Stark - as I live and breathe! I haven’t seen you in... how long has it been? I heard you were back in town.” He crossed the room and shook Tony’s hand enthusiastically. “What brings you here today?” 

Doctor Aloysius Samberly was a colleague of Aunt Peggy’s; a former SSR scientist from the Los Angeles area. He had come back east in the 1960’s to help Howard Stark out with an SI military contract to provide gas masks during the Vietnam conflict and decided to stay in the city. Samberly had given Tony his first chemistry set and was promptly banished from the Stark household for showing the five year old how to build stink bombs. But they had crossed paths again, most notably when Samberly hosted a couple of symposiums at MIT, and Tony had always appreciated the man’s enthusiasm and support. 

“Well,” Tony replied, “I was wondering if you knew anyone doing research on the HIV virus and could run some blood tests.” At the doctor’s shocked and concerned expression, Tony explained, “No, no, it’s not... I don’t need... okay, this is going to sound kind of weird, but I know someone who thinks they might have a way to combat the virus.” 

“Tony, you can just say it’s Howard,” Samberly responded, looking relieved. “I’m already working with him and Doctor Radcliffe. Admittedly, neither of them have confirmed exactly what they’re doing, but they’re obviously trying to replicate some sort of antibodies or vaccine or something.” He sighed. “I swear, all those years working with SHIELD has made your dad practically paranoid. Research is about sharing information; not doling it out bit by bit.” It took Tony a moment to follow Samberly’s train of thought. While Tony was fairly sure his father wasn’t actually trying to cure anything with his research, he was relieved to discover that someone else saw Howard’s actions as overprotective and suspicious. 

Samberly started riffling through a stack of papers on a rather untidy desk, murmuring to himself. “Ah, okay, where is it? I just ran the test yesterday so it should be... nope... not over here. How about... yes!” He plucked a sheet out of the stack and handed it over to Tony. 

“Here’s a summary of the latest set of test results. I’m a little concerned, however; as I detected slight traces of radioactive isotopes in the most recent samples. The good news is that there’s a 80% correlation between the original sample and this set, which is an increase of about 10%. So, whatever they’re doing, they’re getting closer to matching the original.” The mention of radioactivity concerned Tony as well. Did that apply to Steve? He couldn’t recall anything from the Project Rebirth files that would have indicated it, but then again, who was going to hold a Geiger counter up to Captain America to see if it went off? 

Tony looked over the page that Samberly had handed him. It was a table of data, with terminology that seemed vaguely medical, like bilirubin and albumin; but others were references to chemical compounds that certainly didn’t seem like they belonged in a human body. 

“Are you going to see Howard this afternoon?” Samberly asked, “If so, you could save us the courier charges.” He handed over a folder to Tony. He felt as if a smoking gun had just been laid in his lap. With this vital bit of information, maybe he could finally nail down what Howard had been up to.

“I’d be happy to help, Doc. I’ll head over to SI right away.” 

It was nearly five o’clock when Tony found himself staring down his father’s executive assistant. “Mr. Stark is quite busy at the moment. I’d be happy to take the packet and pass it along to him,” she said, with a clearly insincere smile. 

“I’ll wait,” he replied curtly, and refused a seat when she offered. It was taking nearly all his concentration not to pace while he waited, as he continued to think over the contents of the folder he held. It was fairly clear what his father was trying to do; the question was how far had he gotten and what were his plans if he succeeded. 

Tony was shocked a few minutes later to see none other than Obediah Stane opening the door, followed by his father. “You have to understand, Obie,” Howard was saying, hand on his friend’s shoulder, “the board insisted on the leave of absence. Everything had to appear completely above board while the investigation was going on. I knew the whole time you had nothing to do with the affair. ” 

“Thank you, Howard,” Obie replied, sounding quite sincere. “I appreciate your support. I’m just sorry I didn’t see right through her to start with.” He looked up to see Tony. “Hey, kid! Your dad said you had your RFP presentation in DC yesterday. Congratulations! Here to tell us how it went?” Obie’s grin was just a little too wide and it put Tony on his guard. 

“Among other business, yes.” Tony responded tightly. He’d mulled over Agent Coulson’s remark over the last several weeks, about whether Obediah might have been attempting sabotage. He’d put a few puzzle pieces of his own together and hadn’t liked the picture they made. But it was all speculation, and he knew how his father loved his facts. 

“Unfortunately, we were just on our way out to dinner,” Howard said. “Undersecretary Pierce is in town and we need to get some face time with him. I think I’ve got some time free in the morning - check with Mrs. Green.” He nodded at his executive assistant. “Have a good evening, Agnes.” 

“You too, Mr. Stark. Mr. Stane, good to see you back.” As they left the executive suite, she gave Tony a ‘I told you so’ look before flipping the planner to the next day. “It looks as if Mr. Stark has a fifteen-minute slot tomorrow morning. Will 9:45 work for you?” The pride and sense of accomplishment that had been buoying Tony up for the past day or so burst like a balloon.

“Never mind.” Tony replied, keeping a tight hold on the folder. If his father wanted these test results so badly, he could come and ask for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Underlying Plot has started rearing its ugly head and will become the primary driver for the rest of the fic. Not to worry, there's still many sweet moments between our two boys, but expect an emotional roller coaster from here on out. 
> 
> As always, feel free to come say hello over on [ Tumblr](https://polizwrites.tumblr.com/) \- my ask box & messages are always open!


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony reaches out to another of Howard's associates, which allows him to put the final puzzle pieces together. He and Howard have a discussion, and come to a surprisingly amicable agreement. Steve shares the results of his day's adventures, and an Interlude results. Pepper meets Dum-E, which sparks a potential innovation for their SAMFR project.

Before Tony returned to his desk, he asked Mrs Green if she had a contact number for one of his father’s associates. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, but provided the information. He got back to his desk and dialed the number. It rang five times before someone picked up and impatiently asked, “Now what?” 

“I’m sorry, may I speak to Doctor Radcliffe, please?” Tony asked.

“Speaking. Who is this?” came the reply in an impatient British accent.

“I’m calling on behalf of Howard Stark. He has the results from Doctor Samberly’s latest set of tests and asked me to get in touch with you right away, as he’s currently tied up with a bit of business.” 

“Excellent - now, just let me get a bit of paper so I can jot them down.” After a few moments of muffled sounds, Radcliffe returned. “Go ahead.”

“Well, before I do, Mr. Stark mentioned that Samberly said something about detecting radioactive isotopes in the latest -- ” and before Tony could continue, Radcliffe interrupted.

“Well, of course there’s a trace of radiation! I told him that a standard dose of whatever his machine puts out was overkill for just one pint and he’d have to scale it down. I’m surprised it didn’t glow in the dark! Now, I’m a busy man, so just read off the results.” 

Tony did as he was told, while a sick feeling gathered in his stomach. He’d been right to suspect what his father was doing. He was almost certainly trying to replicate the super-soldier serum, probably using Steve’s blood as the comparison sample. Presumably, the machine Radcliffe referenced was Howard’s updated VitaRay from Project Rebirth, and Radcliffe and Samberly were stand ins for Erskine. 

Once he was finished, Radcliffe hmphed, then said, half to himself, “Well, at least we’re getting closer. If the next round goes as well as this, then perhaps we can move on to actual test subjects instead of messing about with just blood. Very well - tell Stark I’ll be in touch.” And he hung up, without so much as a good bye. 

Tony sent a summary of the RFP presentation to his father’s email address and then headed home. He and Steve passed a quiet evening together, just the two of them. Tony itched to tell Steve what he’d discovered, but he didn’t know what Steve would think of Howard trying to re-create the serum. Steve had spoken so glowingly of Erskine that without the doctor’s steadying influence, he might think that Howard was doing more harm than good. So Tony held his tongue; he’d give his father a chance to confirm and explain. 

After a restless night and not nearly enough coffee, Tony drove in to work. Since they had a little downtime until the Department of Defense made a decision, Pepper had been asked to use her project management skills on a high-profile SI project that was in danger of missing its deadline. That meant Tony had their office to himself and he spent the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon going back to review his guidance system’s test results. He was heads down in a multi-page spreadsheet when the door flew open. He looked up to see his father. 

“What are you doing with Samberly’s test results, Tony?” Howard demanded. 

“Hi, Dad.” Tony felt a bit of satisfaction that Howard had actually come to him; he’d been expecting another summons to his father’s home turf. “Seems like I should be asking you the same thing.” Tony responded flatly. “Or more precisely, what exactly has Samberly been testing since... oh, I’d guess, sometime in early July? I guess those samples of Steve’s blood got to the right hands after all.” Having an eidetic memory was sometimes more of a curse than a blessing. 

“Listening at keyholes again, were you?” Howard accused, albeit with a guilty look. “No matter. I don’t have to explain my actions to you.” 

“No, maybe not me. But how about the man those samples came from? Care to tell Steve that you’re trying your damnedest to replace him?” 

“He said he was done serving his country, didn’t he?” Howard replied sharply as he started pacing around the suddenly too-small room. “And you, Tony? You’re too clever for your own good, son. You have to understand -- I can’t sit idly by while threats to our country, to our way of life are growing stronger, day by day.” He stopped in front of Nadia’s empty desk and his hands tightened around the back of the chair. “The whole Roman affair, that’s only a very small part. It’s not even the Soviets I’m worried about -- what’s left of them, that is. It’s the danger hiding in the shadows, the corruption ready to fill that void.” He stared off into the middle distance; apparently lost in thought. 

“I should have listened to Peg,” Howard continued, pushing away from the chair to face Tony. “She never trusted Zola -- tried to convince Phillips not to put him up for Operation Paperclip. She was the one who brought him back when Zola slipped the leash in ‘44.” 

“Wait, why are you talking about a guy who’s been dead for almost two decades?” Tony asked 

“Because I’m not so sure that mad genius is actually gone,” Howard replied, somehow not at all surprised that Tony knew who he was talking about. Tony had done a bit of digging after Zola’s name had popped up in association with everything that had happened over the past few months. He discovered that the Swiss scientist who had been instrumental in the development of Hydra’s weapons had his sentence as a war criminal truncated in favor of his agreement to assist SHIELD in their scientific endeavors. Over the years, Zola had registered several patents for electronic components, and his obituary said he died of cancer in August of 1972. 

“The last couple years of his life, Zola was assisting the Army with setting up their computer data centers, one of which was supposed to be at Camp Lehigh,” Howard said. “I’m trying to figure out what happened to it; if it ever got built or was just some senator’s pipe dream. I just recently found a transcript of Zola’s last conversation. He swore he would live forever in a world of black and white, of ones and zeroes, still working for the cause. I can't help but wonder if he somehow succeeded.”

“Wait a minute... are you saying you think he somehow copied his memories, his personality, his ... self... into a computer?” Tony asked incredulously. “That’s not anywhere near possible now, much less twenty years ago! The complexity of the human brain simply can’t be replicated digitally.” 

“You never met Zola. He had a brilliant mind. Twisted, but brilliant. If anyone could do it, it was him. And who knows what damage he could do in that form?” Howard exhaled sharply. “But you’ve gotten me off track. I need those test results, Tony.” He tried to stare his son down, but Tony wasn’t about to to give in so easily. Not when so much was at stake. 

“And I need to know if you really think you can replicate Erskine’s super soldier serum. Then what you plan on doing with it if you do.” Tony held his father’s gaze steadily; Howard blinked first. 

“We’re getting close,” he admitted. “And I have a few candidates in mind; Agent Wilson is on the short list.” Tony could see that Wilson would be a worthy choice; but he also knew just how persuasive his father could be and didn’t want his friend committing to something without full knowledge of the situation. 

“Let Steve talk to them,” Tony said. “Whoever you choose needs to know exactly what they’re getting into before they volunteer for something that will completely change their lives.” 

“You drive a hard bargain, my boy. Always knew you’d outsmart your old man someday,” Howard replied grudgingly. “We’ll work out the details later.” He held out his hand, and Tony gave him the folder. It had been a compromise instead of a victory; but still more satisfactory than he’d expected their confrontation to be. 

Tony cranked up the Black Sabbath CD in his stereo for the drive home, letting the music wash over him as a distraction. Steve was home already, and had already changed into a t shirt and shorts from the khakis and button downs he usually wore to class. He must’ve seen something in Tony’s expression; for as soon as he looked up, his usual greeting, “Hey, sweetheart,” on his lips, Steve set aside the sketchbook he’d been working on and opened his arms wide.

Tony ditched his suit jacket and gratefully curled up in Steve's lap, resting his head against his beloved's chest. After a minute or two of quiet, Steve gently asked, “Rough day?” 

“Yeah. Had to hash some things out with my dad.” Tony admitted, face still half-buried in Steve’s shirt. 

“Surely he didn’t give you a tough time about the Pentagon presentation -- you and Pepper both said that it couldn’t have gone better.” Steve replied, concern in his voice. 

“Nah, it’s something else. Something big that ... I don’t want to talk about now.” Tony knew he’d have to tell Steve what was going on with Howard and his secret project, but he just couldn’t face it at the moment. 

“That’s okay, Tony. Take your time.” 

“I’m gonna go change clothes. Be right back.” Tony got up and went into their room, grabbing a t shirt and pajama pants out of the dresser. He tossed his dress clothes carelessly on a chair, eager to return to the comfort of Steve’s embrace. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Steve said, “Remember the other night when I was trying to find the Dodgers game on the radio?” 

“Yeah,” Tony replied, “and we ended up listening to ‘Sexually Speaking with Doctor Ruth’ instead.” He laughed a little at the memory. Steve had been a bit shocked at first, to hear someone who sounded like she was his contemporary talking so casually with her callers about their sex lives, but was nonetheless fascinated. 

“Well,” Steve continued, “I stopped by the bookstore after class and found her book, _Doctor Ruth’s Guide to Good Sex_. I looked through it and it seems pretty ... thorough." He blushed and cleared his throat. "Um, there’s even a section for some of the things we’ve talked about doing.” Tony found it oddly endearing that Steve still found it difficult to talk about sex, despite his obvious interest in it. They still hadn’t progressed much beyond touching one another, and while Tony had given their next step in intimacy some thought, he was curious to see where Steve was taking this. 

“Did you buy a copy?” Tony asked. 

“Actually, yeah. And I asked the clerk if he knew of somewhere I could find more information like what was in the book.” 

“Oh god - please tell me he didn’t send you to Times Square,” The area was starting to transform, but Tony couldn’t quite imagine Steve visiting any of the sleazy sex shops or porno theaters that were still quite prevalent in the district. 

“No, in fact he said there was a place just a few blocks over that he thought would have what I was looking for,” Steve replied. “He then told me his shift would be over in about a half-hour and he could meet me over there if I wanted to join him for a drink.” 

A flash of jealousy hit Tony hard; but Steve was already reassuring him, saying, “Of course I told him I already had a special fella, but I appreciated the recommendation. The shop... well... it was a bit of an eyeopener.” Tony almost wished he’d been there; he could just imagine Steve’s expression on seeing an entire wall display of sex toys or fetish wear. “The folks there were real helpful, once I could explain what I was looking for. Even picked up a movie. The clerk said it was pretty real-life in terms of preparation and... um... positions.” Steve’s stutter combined with his blush was absolutely delightful. 

“Oh honey, I can’t believe you braved an adult novelty establishment all by yourself,” Tony said, his face feeling a bit hot as well. “But it sounds like I might be glad you did.” 

“That’s what I’m hoping, too.” Steve said, with a sly grin, one hand slipping up Tony’s thigh. 

And even though Tony wanted this, wanted to get more physical with Steve, a wisp of uncertainty and doubt reared its ugly head again. What if I’m not any good? What if Steve doesn’t like what I’m doing? What if I don’t like doing it? What if it doesn’t feel right? 

Steve stopped and reached out with his other hand to cup Tony’s cheek, interrupting the intrusive thoughts. “Sweetheart, I didn’t do this to put any pressure on you,” he said. “I’ve seen how important it is for you to be prepared, to know what you’re getting into. Miriam told me all about how you dove into the Project Rebirth research, as well as the other medical stuff. I’m trying to do the same thing here. Help us both have the information we need so when we’re ready, we know what we can try and how to make it work.” 

“You can read me like a book, can’t you, honeybun?” Tony said, leaning into Steve’s touch. “I’m sorry I get like this -- I must be sending you some awfully mixed messages.”

“Yeah,” Steve admitted, “But you’re worth it, darlin’. How about we get something to eat?”

“And then maybe a private movie night?” Tony added with a wink. 

[ Interlude ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10444104/chapters/24324048)

Tony and Steve both found themselves quite busy for the next few weeks. In addition to his classes, Steve was volunteering at the Y, helping ride herd on the kids in the after-school programs. He’d come home with all sorts of stories about what they’d been up to, and pencil drawings of various rugrats ended up in Steve's latest sketchbook. 

Tony brought Pepper down to the basement one evening to meet Dum-E; she was fascinated to watch Tony and Steve run the 'bot through his paces. When he rolled up to pluck at her blue skirt during the color test, she didn’t flinch away from the claw, instead patting it and calling him a 'good boy'. She seemed absolutely charmed by Dum-E, saying in amazement, “He has so much more personality than SAMFR. How did you even do that?” 

“Trial and error, mostly.” Tony didn’t want to admit to just how much of the ‘bot’s programming stemmed from loneliness. He’d been tinkering with the coding and pieces and parts for quite some time, but hadn’t actually assembled Dum-E until after Rhodey left for the Academy. “I combined several different algorithms that allow him to -- for lack of a better term -- learn. He’s been up and running for the better part of four years, so that’s a lot of experience in terms of computer time.” 

“What you’ve done with the color identification routine is amazing!” Pepper enthused. “Have you thought about how to do the same thing for shapes?” she asked. He hadn’t, but her suggestion sparked a possibility for SAMFR. That ‘bot already had simple motion detection built into its programming, and perhaps he could program it to be able to identify what it was seeing, in at least a rough sort of way. 

“Pepper, you’re a genius!” He gave her a big hug and kissed her on both cheeks, to her mildly stunned amusement. He started explaining the idea as he worked it out in his head, so it probably sounded a bit muddled, but both Steve and Pepper were more than willing to help out with the grunt work. 

They started by taking photos of cars, trucks and busses from various distances and at different angles. They then did the same thing for people, taking photos of each other in all sorts of poses. Tony then wrote a program that would view the image and create a 2D wireframe of the objects in the photo. 

It was then a matter of going through the images and ‘teaching’ the program what a vehicle looked like, and what a person looked like, using pattern-based comparisons. The more examples he ran through the scanner, the better the program got at evaluating a given image. Large rocks and trees were problematic, getting identified as vehicles and people respectively, but once Steve suggested adding identifying elements to each object type -- wheels and windows for vehicles, arms, legs and heads for people -- the accuracy level skyrocketed. 

Needless to say, the memory needed for the object database was substantial; Tony needed to add an additional disc drive to SAMFR’s chassis, where the available room was already tight. As he played Tetris with the innards of his ‘bot, parts strewn across all three desks of their office space, Pepper came over and examined his handiwork. 

“Does the camera have to be centrally positioned?” she asked. “If not, could you move the mast to one side and mount its motor outside the main chassis? It might not look too pretty, but it would get the job done and free up space for the disc drive.” 

Tony thought it over for a moment. “Yes, it could work. There’d be some redesign needed, and possibly a secondary design approval, but yes. It would work. Maybe even multiple camera assemblies could feed back to the CPU for analysis...” 

“Exactly,” Pepper responded, “mobile and stationary cameras combined for 360-degree surveillance.” 

“Pepper, did you pick up an engineering degree when I wasn’t looking?” Tony asked, only semi-facetiously, “Because that totally seems like something you would do on a whim.” 

“Guess your genius is contagious,” she responded. “And since you love clever acronyms, call it a Supplemental Observation Network or something.” She couldn’t quite keep a straight face, and Tony laughed out loud when he realized the pun. 

“And once again you surprise me, Pep. Although I’m not sure I appreciate the comparison to a junkman.” 

“How about I make it up to you by buying lunch, Boss?” she grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Tony finally has confirmation of what Howard's been up to, he and Steve have reached a new level of intimacy and (thanks to Pepper) SAMFR is going to be an even more useful (and potentially profitable) robot! Life is good, at least for now. 
> 
> (And if you didn't get the pun, it's a reference to the Redd Foxx sitcom from the 1970's, _Sanford and Son_. Yes, I'm showing my age and no, it's not a particularly good pun.)


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony does a bit of online snooping per his father's request, with potentially portentous results. Obediah hosts a celebratory dinner after SI wins the DoD contract, and Tony takes Steve away to the Stark beach house for a romantic weekend.

Tony jerked back from the computer monitor with a gasp, hitting the ESC key almost reflexively. It had to have been his imagination; surely he hadn’t actually seen or heard what he thought he had. How long had he been at this, anyways? He glanced at his watch to see it was nearly nine o’clock at night. He remembered Pepper stopping in to tell him she was leaving for the day and not to stay too long, but that seemed like only five or ten minutes ago. 

He rubbed a hand over his face and stood and stretched, the popping in his back and the ache of his shoulders a physical reminder of just how long he’d been sitting there. He crossed the room to call Steve, still feeling vaguely uneasy about what had just happened and that somehow putting distance between himself and the computer would help. 

“Hey, sunshine.” 

“Hi darlin'... is everything okay? I was starting to worry -- I didn’t think you were going to work so late tonight.” Tony had expected some sort of reproach, but Steve simply sounded as if he missed him.

“I’m sorry,” Tony apologized. “I just got caught up in something and lost track of time. Give me about fifteen minutes to wrap things up and I’ll be on my way.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Love you.” It was still hard to actually say those words, even though he’d felt that way for what seemed like forever. 

“Love you too, Tony.” His warm, immediate response made Tony wish he wasn’t still at work, that he could see Steve’s sunrise smile and kiss the lips that said those words. “See you soon.” 

Tony sat back down at the computer and started to carefully unsnarl the tangled web he’d woven, unsure how much to tell Steve about what he’d been up to and what he thought he’d found. 

 

It had all started when Howard had asked if there was a way to research archive listings for universities online. “European universities - Germany, Austria, Poland, places like that.” 

“Maybe?” Tony replied cautiously. “It really depends on each institution. What are you looking for?” 

“Any papers or references to these men.” Howard gave him a list of about a half-dozen names; most of whom were unfamiliar, but two stood out -- Erskine and Zola. “There has to be more information out there about the other subjects.” 

“Other subjects?” Tony asked, blood running cold. 

“Schmidt, of course, and Zola did experiments on some of the POWs that he got his hands on early in the war. I’ve got a few scattered pages here and there, and some transcripts of later interviews, but I need more.” Howard’s obsession with the serum had ramped up another few notches; he’d mentioned offhand that Radcliffe had started testing on animals, but Tony didn’t have the stomach to ask for details. 

Instead, Tony spent the better part of the next couple of days digging through various FTP sites, but wasn’t having much luck. He did his best with both the archie and gopher search engines, but the few references he’d found all referred back to hard copy documents; usually with only a file box or folder designation. When he shared his meager results with his father, Howard was obviously disappointed. 

“What about SHIELD’s archives?” he asked. 

“I can’t imagine they have much out there for the public to access, Dad.” 

His father gave him a disparaging look. “That’s not what I meant, Tony. I seem to remember a certain fourteen-year-old breaking into NASA’s computer system just to see whether or not they really had found aliens.” That had been on a dare, and he wasn’t exactly sober at the time, but Tony wasn’t about to admit that to his father. 

“So, you’re saying you want me to illegally attempt to gain access to one of the US’s top intelligence agencies? The one that hires the best and brightest computer experts it can get its hands on?” Howard’s frustrated sigh and small nod was all the reply he needed. 

It made more sense in Tony’s mind to try the hack from his office PC; the SI firewalls would provide a built in level of defense that he hadn’t yet bothered with at home. The machine might not be as powerful as his own CPU, but the connectivity was a lot better. It didn’t take much to work his way out through the firewalls, and set his ‘bug out button’; the ESC key would immediately cut the connection, but leave a bit of a mess to clean up. 

Howard had given him a few IP addresses which were surprisingly useful -- apparently old dogs could learn new tricks. Tony was thankful the server cluster seemed to be running on Sun machines and some flavor of Unix; the last system he’d nosed around had still been running on a VAX mainframe. Ugh. 

Tony finally found a promising looking file structure and unleashed a grep command to search for the first name on the list - Fennhoff. Unfortunately, he ran into the same situation as he had with the university archives -- almost everything was still in hard copy format, with computer files only serving as indexes. Tony hoped the ‘MF’ designation meant that the documents were on microfilm or microfiche, as that would make it easier to smuggle the info out ... assuming Howard were ballsy enough to try it. Tony piped the results into a file for later reference and moved on. 

The next few names garnered only a few hits apiece, but once he grepped for Erskine he hit a jackpot. The index references were to image files, so Tony snagged all of those, swapping out disks as needed. He guessed there would be a lot of overlap between what he was saving and what Howard already had, but they could work through that later. 

Tony had saved Zola’s name for last, not looking forward to scanning through whatever the search might find, especially if there were any references to Sergeant Barnes. The thought that Steve’s childhood friend had been one of that psychopath's test subjects and that Howard now wanted to use the information gleaned from those experiments unsettled him. Sometimes the ends didn’t justify the means. 

Tony typed in the search command and pressed ENTER. The screen went black for a moment, but instead of returning results, a flood of nonsense characters started filling the screen, somehow resolving into an almost three-dimensional image of a skull; no, a face. A face that seemed to stare right into his soul. A tinny, mechanical voice whispered a single interrogative from the computer speakers, drawing out the A and giving a Germanic roll to the R. 

“Stark?” 

 

By the next morning, Tony decided that bugging out of his hack session had been a bit of an overreaction. He could see some recent comp sci grad with his own perverse sense of humor setting up a spooky booby trap for potential hackers. Surely the voice had been his own imagination; his guilty conscience. 

That same guilty conscience made it difficult to tell Steve what he’d been researching. After hearing about Steve’s recurring nightmare, Tony didn’t want to dredge up further bad memories for his beloved. So Tony boxed up the discs with the files he’d copied from the SHIELD archives, wrote a brief note and dropped it into the inter-office mail. He was done playing his father’s cloak and dagger game. 

 

The Department of Defense finally made their RFP acceptance announcement the middle of October, and to no one’s surprise, Stark Industries was awarded the contract. Obie insisted in hosting a celebratory dinner the following week and Tony made sure that Pepper was included, as she had been integral to the success of the proposal. Obie did try to talk him into ‘swinging by the club’ after dinner, but Tony demurred. 

“I’m taking a long weekend - heading out to the beach house first thing in the morning,” he explained. 

Obie glanced over to Pepper -- who was talking with Maria and not paying attention -- and then nudged Tony. “Just can’t keep away from the redheads, can you my boy?” When Tony protested that he and Pepper were just co-workers, Obie winked. “Of course you are. The Stark Industries Employee Handbook prohibits manager/subordinate relationships. But you’re the boss’ son, right?” And there was another nudge, followed by a crude gesture.

Obie’s crass attitude toward women had bothered Tony for years; having it directed towards Pepper made him feel downright ill. But at least if Obie thought she was already spoken for, Tony supposed that meant he wouldn’t be hitting on her. Not much of a silver lining, but it helped. 

Tony was taking Pepper back to her apartment when she said, “Your mother said something a little strange while we were waiting for the cars to be brought around. She told me she hoped I enjoyed the weekend, that the wine cellar had just been restocked and not to worry about doing any cleanup?” 

Tony groaned. “I am so sorry, Pepper. I’m taking Steve out to my parents’ beach house in the Hamptons this weekend - kind of a surprise. Well, when I asked Mom if it was available, she must have assumed I was taking you instead. What did you say?” 

Thankfully, Pepper simply laughed instead of taking offense. “I just pretended I knew what she meant and thanked her. Honestly, Tony, your mother is almost as bad as mine! I didn’t even know she read the New York papers until she called and asked me all about you after the gala. Next thing I know she’s going to be unearthing the hope chest she started for me when I was sixteen.” She kissed him on the cheek when they pulled up in front of her building. “You and Steve have fun this weekend. I’ll hold down the fort til you get back.” 

Tony hadn’t told Steve where they were going, just to pack an overnight bag with a couple of changes of clothing. Steve didn’t have any classes on Friday, so they left after rush hour started to clear. The weather was surprisingly cooperative, with a few days of Indian summer and clear skies in the forecast, so he put the top down for the drive out to the house. Once they were out of the city, the wind noise made it a little difficult to have a conversation, but Steve seemed to be enjoying the trip, which took the rest of the morning. 

They stopped for a late lunch in Montauk at a fish shack where they split a dozen oysters along with a clam bake, then finished up the drive. While Steve looked around the place, Tony stocked the fridge with the items he’d brought from home; he had a rather special dinner planned. He caught up with Steve out on the back lawn, looking out and down the cliff to the ocean. 

“If you want to go down to the beach, we can use our neighbor’s access stairs but I gotta warn you, it’s a bit of a haul.” 

“How often does this place get used? ” Steve asked as he turned back around to take in the house and the well-groomed grounds. 

“We used to come out here for a couple of weeks each summer,” Tony replied, omitting the fact that it was usually when his father was on his Arctic expeditions. “But nowadays? Well, Mom has a garden party or two in the spring, and Dad sometimes brings bigwig clients out for the weekend during the summer. There’s a nice golf course in town, I’ve been told. I bet Obie’s been up here a few times this year, too. Then there’s the holiday party a week or two before Christmas.” 

“And the rest of the time?” 

“The caretakers have the run of the place.” Tony hadn’t really given it much thought before; but he could easily understand how ostentatious it seemed to have a home that you only spent perhaps a dozen days a year in, especially to someone who’d grown up in a Brooklyn tenement. 

“Let me show you my room,” Tony added, grabbing Steve’s hand and tugging him back inside His old bedroom had been left as is, surviving his mother’s tri-yearly redecorating binges. Steve raised an eyebrow at the Captain America posters on the walls; he hadn’t seen Tony’s old room in town, which was similarly decorated. “Toldja I had a case of hero worship. But that isn’t what I wanted you to see.” Tony pushed open the window, slid the screen out of the way and clambered out onto the porch roof. He beckoned for Steve to follow.

With a dubious look, Steve asked, “Sure it will hold both of us?” 

“If it can hold a half-dozen blitzed college co-eds dancing around to Madonna, I think we’re good.” At Steve’s stunned look, Tony continued, “Yeah, it’s surprising how popular you get when word gets around that your parents have a beach house and they’re hardly ever there.” He didn’t even know half the people who’d showed up, and it took Rhodey threatening to call the cops before the crowd dispersed. He’d had to bribe the caretaker to not tell his parents and paid the housekeeper time and a half over her normal salary to get the place back in order. 

He pointed to a squat steel framework that had been bolted to the roof. “On a happier note, I used to bring my telescope out here to stargaze. Hardly any light pollution this far out on the Island.” The roof faced southeast, which would be perfect for the Oronid meteor shower, which was supposed to hit its peak the following night. 

“Bucky ‘n me would head up to the roof of our building in the summer to sleep, sometimes,” Steve replied. “We could see some stars, but I bet there’s a skyful out here.” 

“Looking forward to showing you, sunshine. I’m going to rummage around and see if I can find the telescope and set it up for tonight.” 

“Would you mind if I went for a run on the beach?” Steve asked. “Be nice to stretch my legs for a bit.” 

“Not at all - I’ll show you how to get down there.” They walked over to the access stairs and Tony stole a kiss before Steve braved the windy stretches of the deserted beach. Tony poked around in the attic, but there was no telescope to be found. No matter; he had plans beyond just a little stargazing. 

The sun was setting behind the trees before Steve returned; he’d been gone over an hour and Tony wondered whether he’d gone all the way around the point to town and back. Steve looked tired, but happy, saying “Can’t remember the last time I got in a really good run. There’s usually too many people around. I’m going to grab a shower.” 

By the time Steve came back downstairs, barefoot with damp, tousled hair, Tony had set up the kitchen table with the various treats he’d brought. Chips and salsa for a starter along with buffalo wings which he’d reheated in the oven. Vindaloo and jambalaya -- he figured it was worth throwing something Cajun into the mix -- were the entrees. The bowl of yam nua sat front and center. 

Steve took a deep breath, inhaling the bouquet of scents while an ardent smirk stole across his face. “Oh, sugar ... just what do you think you’re up to?” 

“Dig in, soldier - it’s going to be a long night.” 

[ Interlude](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10444104/chapters/24455640)

Tony’s watch alarm went off at 2am. He nudged Steve, who made an irritated snuffle. “Hey, Cap, let’s go watch the shooting stars.” 

“You already made me see stars tonight, darlin’,” Steve sleepily replied. “Besides, I’m comfortable right where I am.” He wrapped himself a little tighter around Tony to make his point. And while Tony normally would be quite content to be the little spoon, this was something he'd been looking forward to. 

“Just for a little while,” he cajoled, “C’mon, Steve... please?” 

“Okay, sweetheart,” Steve replied indulgently. They pulled on comfortable clothes, and Tony grabbed the blankets from the bed before they returned to his old bedroom to climb out on the porch roof. The moon had set and the sky was clear; perfect conditions for stargazing, despite the chill of the wind coming off the ocean.

Just as their eyes were adjusting to the darkness, a meteor flared across the sky. “Oh,” Steve murmured in wonder. 

“That was a pretty good one, but keep watching," Tony said. "They're predicting fifty to sixty meteors an hour at the peak viewing time.” Within a nest of blankets, they were soon warm and cozy again. In between the meteors, Tony pointed out the planets and the more obvious constellations. 

“I can’t tell you how many nights I spent out here, Steve. Hoping someday I’d have someone to share moments like this with.” Tony had rehearsed this moment in his mind over and over, but still wasn’t sure he could say the words. He rolled over to look at Steve. “You know I love you, right? I don’t say it nearly enough, but I do. I really and truly do.” 

Steve reached up to gently stroke Tony’s cheek. “Of course I know, Tony. I can see it in your eyes, in your smile, and in all the little things you do. And it makes me love you more every day.” He pulled Tony down for a kiss, his lips warm and welcoming. 

“So, I know we can’t actually get married and all, but I was thinking this would be the perfect time to pop the question,” Tony continued before he could second-guess himself. “You know, with the stars shining down, the quiet lapping of the waves, the breeze blowing in the trees ... all that romantic stuff.” His heart was beating so loudly that he barely heard Steve’s soft reply.

“Go ahead.” 

“Would you, sunshine, if you could?” Tony held his breath. Maybe he was asking too much.

“Would I what?” Steve replied, a gently-teasing smile playing around his lips. But Steve's eyes were shining, and Tony felt his pulse racing to match his own. 

“Dammit, Rogers, are you really going to make me say the words?” he asked with a shaky laugh. 

“If you don’t, Tony, I will.” Steve’s voice trembled in reply, despite the certainty in his tone. 

“Fine. Together, then, on the count of three.” Tony said, tears of happiness spilling down his cheeks. “One, two, three...” 

“Would you marry me?” they spoke as one, answering “Yes.” in the same breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA 5/23 - Interlude posted and linked -- better late than never! 
> 
> FYI: if you're the kind of reader that craves happy endings... well, you might want to stop here. Just saying.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria starts planning her mid-December Stark Holiday Soiree, Tony and Steve contrive to spend as much of Thanksgiving together as possible, and Howard shares some important information with his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit on the short side, but I hope you enjoy it anyways. While quite tame (and downright domestic) in and of itself, it does set up a few things that make the finale even more of a gut punch, so read on at your own discretion.
> 
> ETA: 6/2/17 - Clint is up to something over at SHIELD as well - check out [ this chapter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10444104/chapters/24694167) of the Interludes companion fic if you want to know more.

Maria Stark took her role as society matron seriously, planning her events as carefully as a general on the eve before a battle. The mid-December Stark holiday soiree out at the beach house in particular required considerable logistics, so it didn’t surprise Tony at all that she’d start at least a month and a half ahead of time. 

For the guests from out of town, as well as those who didn’t care to make the nearly three-hour drive out to the far end of Long Island, Maria would arrange chartered flights into the East Hampton airport. If they chose to make a weekend of it, they could make reservations at one of several four-star resorts in the area as part of the Stark party block. Maria traditionally hosted a lavish brunch at Gurney’s Montauk Resort for anyone still in the area on Sunday morning as well. 

The guest list itself was quite exclusive; where her typical fundraising gala hosted between a hundred and fifty and two hundred guests, the beach house could only hold between sixty and seventy-five people comfortably. Only those with the closest connections to the Starks -- either personal or professional -- were sure of making the cut. And while Maria was happy to have both Pepper and Rhodey attending, she was hesitant to add Steve to the list. 

“I’m sorry, dear, but your father’s putting his foot down, saying it’s supposedly for Steve’s own good. He’s convinced that someone either from SHIELD or the military would recognize Captain Rogers. I think he’s imagining things, but you know how stubborn he can be.” 

“I sure do, Mom. But could you talk to him about it, please? I hate the idea of leaving Steve alone so close to Christmas, especially for his first one back.” Tony wasn’t above appealing to his mother’s emotions. 

“Well, I suppose you can invite him up for the weekend, but just not to the party or the brunch,” his mother replied. “Surely Steve won’t mind being on his own for a little while. I can book rooms at Gurney’s for you and your friends. Should I plan on four rooms, or three?” 

Tony intentionally misunderstood her, saying, “Three should be fine. Pepper can have her own room and us guys can draw straws to see who gets stuck bunking together.” 

Undeterred, Maria stated, “You know, Tony, if you have any important announcements to make, the holidays are a traditional time to --” 

“Mom,” Tony interrupted, “Pepper and I have only known each other for a few months!” He hadn’t yet disabused his mother of the notion that he and Pepper were a couple, as it had been nice to get a reprieve from her her throwing eligible young women at him left and right. But they could only stretch the deception out so long. If he were to make the real announcement, the one his heart wanted to make... well, that would throw the party into an absolute uproar. 

“Of course, Tony. I’m not suggesting you rush into anything. It’s just that you’ve seemed so much happier since you two met.” She put a hand on his arm. “She’s good for you, Tony. She truly is.” His mother sounded so sincere and so thankful that it kind of broke his heart to have to lie to her. Yes, his life was much brighter now, but it wasn’t Pepper that was his sunshine -- it was Steve. 

 

“Need another coffee, Tony?” Steve asked as the two of them stood on the corner of Central Park West and 72nd Street along with what felt like half of Manhattan. Tony had been prepared to pull strings to get them a room at the Dakota that overlooked the parade route, but Steve had insisted in joining the crowds at street level. 

“I do, but then I’ll have to go water one of the trees over there in the park, so I’ll pass.” They’d been there for almost three hours and Tony was cold and bored. Steve, on the other hand, was having a ball just people-watching and chit-chatting with anyone who would respond. He got lucky; they were standing near a family from Dubuque on their first visit to the city, and Steve was doing his best visitor’s bureau imitation. 

A roar from the crowd echoed down the Avenue and Tony desperately hoped that meant the parade was actually starting. The mass of humanity surrounding them surged toward the street, pressing Tony and Steve close together. 

“What’s a nice boy like you doing in a mob like this?” Tony quietly asked, leaning against Steve’s broad, warm chest for just a moment. 

“Waiting to see Santa so I can tell him what I want for Christmas.” 

“Have you been good?” Tony inquired teasingly.

“You tell me, darlin’,” Steve’s voice was pitched low and sultry, and all of a sudden Tony wasn’t quite so cold. 

 

Once the parade passed, they pushed their way through the throng towards the subway station, while Steve talked excitedly about the parade. He’d marveled at the size of the balloons and cheered for every marching band, although he’d seemed a bit nonplussed at all the floats publicizing TV shows and movies. “Quite a production, wasn’t it?” he enthused. 

“Yeah, but now I need to get down to Ninth and 28th by noon to meet my parents. See you at my parent's house for dinner around six.” Maria Stark made a point of spending a few hours every Thanksgiving in a local soup kitchen and she’d pressed both her husband and son into service this time around. 

“You and Tony really should be seen together more in public, dear,” Maria insisted as she smiled brightly at the cameras. “After all, he’s going to be the face of the company before you know it.” Howard grumbled a reply, and Tony took the first opportunity to escape from the press by taking a load of dishes back into the kitchen. 

Despite the gradual thawing between them, there were still several topics that neither Tony nor his father felt quite ready to discuss. One of which was Tony’s eventual assumption of the leadership role at Stark Industries, a multi-billion dollar business that Howard had built from scratch and was as much his creation -- or perhaps more so -- as Tony himself. 

And it was a creation that Tony felt in no way, shape or form capable of managing. The Research and Development division, now, that was his kind of endeavor. Tony would be happy to lose himself in blueprints and be up to his elbows in machinery all damn day. But all the glad-handing and the deal-making and all the rest? That was right up Obie’s alley. 

And Pepper would make an awesome CFO. She had the analytical mind and laser-like focus to be able to deal with the contracts and the paperwork, having proven that several times over with the RFP. So when Howard was finally ready to hand over the reins, Tony would make sure there were places for both Obie and Pepper in the executive offices. 

Tony was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly ran into the guy standing at the sink. “Uh, sorry... wait... Steve!?” Tony yelped. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you. Trying to help out folks that don’t have it as good as I do,” he responded with an oh-so-innocent look. 

“No, why are you here?” Tony repeated, stressing the ‘here’. 

“Didn’t want to be any further away from you than I had to be,” Steve replied quietly, with a casual shrug that belied the flash of sadness in his eyes. But of course: holidays like Thanksgiving -- designed to celebrate home and family -- would be difficult for Steve. 

Tony winked and bumped shoulders with Steve, trying to make his beloved feel better. “You’re a real sap, you know that, Rogers?” He looked around; between the general bustling and the noise of the industrial dishwasher, Tony was fairly certain they couldn’t be overheard. “One of the many things I love about you, sunshine. Now, keep your head down - Dad would flip out if he knew you were back here. How late are you planning on working, anyways?” 

“Til about four-thirty. Gives me time to run home and get cleaned up before heading to your folks’ place.” 

“They weren’t lying when they called you the Star Spangled Man with a Plan, were they? I better head back out front. See you soon, handsome, and watch out for dishpan hands.” 

On the limo ride back to his parents’ home, Maria asked after Pepper. “You did make sure to invite her to the house this evening, didn’t you, Tony? Heaven knows Ana always makes enough to feed an army.” 

“Of course, Mom. But she went back home to celebrate with her family.” Tony explained. While she hadn’t been looking forward to the long drive, Pepper had been excited to get to spend a few days back home. Tony felt a little jealous that she was looking forward to spending time with her parents, although he was getting along with them both better this year than during past holiday seasons. 

“Oh, I suppose that’s understandable,” Maria replied, sounding a little disappointed. She got out her planner, and started flipping through the pages. “Well, I believe everything’s set for the weekend of the fourteenth. Jim is flying in from DC along with Phillips and Fury on Saturday morning. It looks as if Undersecretary Pierce will be joining them as well. I told Sam and Miriam there was room on the flight, but they’re going to see his family in Baltimore over Christmas and they couldn’t take time off for both events.” 

“That’s a shame,” Tony replied. He’d been hoping to see them both and share his good news in person. He'd told Pepper and Rhodey about his and Steve’s pseudo-engagement already, but Clint had been increasingly scarce around the apartment building over the past month. Not surprisingly, Steve had taken on the care and feeding duties for Lucky in his absence, though the mutt was still staying at his owner’s place. 

“Hey, Dad,” Tony continued, “I’d like to do a demo of the SAMFR add-ons I’ve been telling you about -- the supplemental camera system and the object recognition routine. With Phillips, Fury and the Undersecretary attending, this seems like a perfect opportunity.” 

“I agree, Tony. I’m curious to see you put that robot through its paces myself.” 

They had a surprisingly stress-free Thanksgiving dinner. Steve compared his soup kitchen volunteer experience to KP duty in the military; carefully leaving out exactly where he'd been that afternoon. “I felt like I was right back at Camp Lehigh . If I never have to scrub a pan or peel pounds and pounds of potatoes again, it will be too soon.” 

Howard spun a tale about a Thanksgiving during the war where Dum Dum had negotiated with a local farmer for a goose, only to realize that they were expected to butcher and dress it themselves. “Who finally did the deed anyways, Rogers?” 

“Morita drew the short straw,” Steve replied. “Swore up a storm the entire time. Remember how we were all picking pinfeathers out of our teeth afterwards? He did a half-cocked job of plucking the bird, probably as revenge!” 

Tony already knew that his mother doted on Steve, but seeing him and Howard start to rebuild their friendship made Tony wish desperately that his parents could know just how much Steve meant to him, and vice versa. That next Thanksgiving could truly be a family celebration. 

After dinner, Howard asked Tony to join him in his study. He handed over a thick leather portfolio, saying, “I thought you might be able to use these at some point for your robots.” 

Tony opened the portfolio and pulled out one of the folded blueprints. “What is this, Dad?” 

“A new kind of power source. Worked on it with Anton Vanko back in the early 70's. He was a brilliant engineer, if a bit conceited. We had a prototype about half built when Obie found out he was selling secrets back to the Motherland. Vanko sabotaged the equipment before they took him away; and I never had the heart to try to rebuild it.” The situation and name rang a bell with Tony.

“Didn’t Vanko have a son about my age?” he asked. “I think I met him once.”

“Quite possibly. The blueprints for the flying car repulsors are in there as well,” Howard continued. “I’ve taken that design as far as I can, but I think maybe between the two of us, we can lick the problems I kept running into.” 

“Really?” Tony was stunned. His father had never offered to collaborate with him, much less on something that could well be Howard Stark’s greatest achievement. 

“Yes, son, really,” he replied with a broad, genuine smile. “Let’s dig into these after the first of the year, see what our combined brains can come up with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle in, my darlings, it's going to be a bumpy ride from here.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony, Steve & Pepper take Friday off and head to the Island for the weekend, setting up the SON camera system for their demo ahead of time. Saturday morning, Pepper & Tony pick up the big brass and show off their updates to SAMFR. That night, they attend Maria's party -- Pepper gets to fangirl over Aunt Peggy, and Rhodey pines after Pepper. Sunday Brunch is clandestinely interrupted by some disturbing news which precipitates a change in plans for Howard and Maria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where the rubber hits the road and the puzzle pieces start falling in place, folks.

Pepper stared in wonder when Tony and Steve pulled up in front of her building, clapping a hand to her mouth as they nearly slid into a parked car. She walked up to the driver’s side window through the curbside slush and held out her hand. “Give me the keys to this behemoth, Boss.” 

Tony had needed something big enough to transport SAMFR to the beach house and ended up checking out a GMC Suburban from the SI motor pool. The vehicle was unwieldy to begin with, and several hundred additional pounds of robot and equipment only added to the questionable handling on the inch of snow that had fallen overnight. And while he had white knuckled it from SI to her apartment, he was reluctant to give up the driver’s seat. 

“I’m doing just fine, Pepper,” Tony insisted. “Ask Steve.” When she glanced over to the passenger seat, Steve slowly shook his head and showed her where he’d left finger marks in the armrest. “Traitor,” Tony muttered, giving Steve a dirty look. 

“Tony, you’re much too used to your zippy little sports cars,” Pepper explained. “I’ve been driving big trucks in weather much worse than this since I was fourteen.” She opened the door and made a ‘gimmie’ gesture. Tony slid down to the pavement and handed over the keys. She passed him her suitcase and smoothly hoisted herself up behind the wheel. Tony put her bag with the rest of the luggage and assorted cases and got in the back seat. In a belated show of solidarity, Steve had relocated as well.

“Don’t distract Tony too much, Steve. I’ll need him to navigate,” Pepper called back as she put the SUV into gear and pulled out into traffic. The morning rush hour was just winding down; Tony and Pepper had taken the day off so they could prepare for the informal demo of SAMFR’s latest additions before Phillips, Fury and Pierce arrived on Saturday. 

They made good time out of the city on 495, and were on 27 in just over an hour. Tony had to admit Pepper knew what she was doing in handling the extra-large vehicle, smoothly braking and cornering without a hint of a skid or fishtail. They stopped for lunch at the same fish shack he and Steve had eaten at back in October before continuing their trip. 

Tony had picked out a fairly sharp curve along the private road leading to the beach house as a good spot to put the two Supplemental Observation Network cameras, as the vehicles passing by would have to slow down in order to navigate the turn. In fact, the beachfront association already had a security camera there -- so Tony mounted one of his (considerably less obtrusive) cameras on the post, and the other on the opposite side of the road about a half-dozen yards down. 

In order to move on to live object recognition, Tony had written a routine to capture single frames of video and run them through the analysis algorithm. The processor couldn’t handle more than about two frames per second, so multiple cameras doubled the chance of getting a clean image of any given vehicle.

SAMFR and SON worked on line-of-sight propagation, with a limit of about 200 yards. As a backup, Tony had attached a harddrive in a weatherproof case to each of the cameras to capture the video. If the wireless transmission didn’t work for some reason, he could plug the hard drives in directly to transfer the data. 

It was nearly four o’clock before they pulled into the parking lot of the resort. The reception clerk was happy to provide a list of spa services, which Tony handed over to Pepper. “Pick a treatment, Pep. You’ve been a huge help, not only today, but every day. My treat.” 

“Thank you, Tony,” she replied with a delighted smile. “I’ll see what I can squeeze in between now and tomorrow morning.” 

Tony flopped down on the bed once he and Steve got to their room. “It’s gonna be a busy weekend, sunshine and I don’t know how much time we’ll get together. I’m sorry Dad’s being such an ass.” 

“It’s okay - I get it, Tony,” Steve replied, stretching out on the bed next to him. “I’m kind of looking forward to some down time, actually.” Tony had helped Steve study for his finals -- which he’d been surprisingly nervous about -- and he’d taken his last one just the day before. “Brought my camera and sketch book - should keep me busy. Heck, maybe I’ll try one of those spa treatments,” he finished, a hint of a tease in his tone. 

“Oh I don’t think so, loverboy,” Tony shot back. “The only hands making that magnificent body of yours feel good damn well better be mine.” He then proceeded to suit words to deed. 

 

The next morning, Pepper and Tony drove to the airport to meet the charter flight from DC. Howard met them out at the airport, and Pierce and Fury rode with him, while Rhodey and his boss joined the two of them. 

“I must admit, Tony, you’ve got me quite intrigued with this new capability you’ve added to your robot,” Phillips said as they rode to their destination. “Can it actually identify objects in real time?” 

“Well, we’re working on it, sir,” Tony explained. “It can pick out moving objects from a background and classify them as vehicles or people. However, the object has to stay in view for at least a half a second, since the routine only captures every tenth frame of video. A vehicle travelling 30 miles an hour covers about twenty feet of distance in that time. That’s one of the reasons for multiple cameras; there’s a better chance of actually capturing the moving object onscreen. The cameras themselves have wide-angle lenses to help compensate.” 

There was a small clearing just the other side of the curve. Tony pulled the Suburban into it, and his father’s towncar followed. “Thank you for braving the weather to give me and Ms. Potts a chance to demonstrate some advancements we’ve made to the SAMFR design,” Tony said, as he started to drive the robot down the makeshift ramp from the back of the SUV. “As I was telling the officers on the drive over, the Supplemental Observation Network allows SAMFR to not only detect motion, but in some cases, provide intel about the movement in near real-time.” 

Tony continued to explain the object identification protocols as he drove SAMFR over to a spot off the side of the road equidistant from both cameras. Using the laptop, Pepper sent the commands to activate the cameras, and after a few moments, the uplink was established. 

“Currently, SAMFR does require the use of a laptop to display video; however, we’re looking at ways to integrate a video screen into the overall body. Ms. Potts - would you be so kind to drive the SUV past the camera a couple of times?” She made three passes, and combined with a couple of other vehicles passing, the system got a good workout. Tony also asked the men to walk past the cameras to demonstrate SAMFR’s recognition of people-sized objects. 

“The main obstacle at the moment is the frame rate capture,” Tony concluded. “As you saw, if a vehicle passes by the cameras too quickly, it doesn’t get captured clearly. The constraint is the CPU processing capability. However, as computer chips get faster, the software can be easily updated. Any questions?” He was pleasantly surprised to receive a round of applause, and Howard clapped him on the back. 

“Nicely done, son. I’m proud of you.” 

They were all starting to feel the chill, so Fury, Phillips and Pierce joined Howard for the drive to the hotel, while Rhodey volunteered to stay and help load SAMFR and the equipment back in the SUV. When he went to retrieve the cameras, Tony waved him off. 

“Nah, let’s leave them up awhile longer. We could use more video and there’s plenty of space on the hard drives, since they only record once the motion detector is triggered. Besides, we need to see how the cameras deal with weather extremes.”

 

  
Tony knocked on Pepper’s door around quarter til five. She opened the door, saying, “Almost ready.” She was putting on an earring and was still barefoot. The evening party was semi-dressy, and she’d selected a pine green knit dress with silver accents. “Good lord, Tony, that tie!” He was sporting a holiday monstrosity that featured a neon-green Christmas tree with tiny pom-poms as ornaments. 

“It’s tradition,” he replied. “Rhodey and I always wear ugly ties to holiday parties. Mom’s used to it by now.” He helped her with her coat, and they were on their way. 

“What’s Steve up to this evening?” Pepper asked as they got into the SUV. 

“He took a bunch of photos around town today and was going to work up some sketches for his portfolio.” Tony was still resentful that Steve had been excluded from the party, even if he could grudgingly comprehend with the reason. 

The house was decorated to the nines, and the waitstaff were already circulating with trays of drinks and snacks when they arrived. A familiar figure was talking to his mother, and Tony broke out into a wide smile. 

“Aunt Peggy! Mom said you weren’t going to be able to make it this year!” he greeted her. 

“Well, now, I could scarcely miss the opportunity to sample Ana’s fruitcake, now could I?” she replied. “And who’s this?” she asked, with a nod to Pepper. 

“Aunt Peggy, let me introduce Ms. Virginia Potts. We work together and have become friends along the way. Pepper, this is Ms. Margaret Carter, former director of SHIELD and an old family friend.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Pepper responded as they shook hands, looking a little starstruck. She apparently had some familiarity with Agent Carter’s exploits. 

“And you, Ms. Potts. I’ve worked with Tony’s father for many years, so if you need any tips on how to deal with the Stark men, let me know.” 

As they walked away, Pepper teasingly commented, “Why do people keep warning me about you, Tony?” 

“I can’t imagine, Pep,” he replied, with a round-eyed, innocent look. 

A few minutes later, Rhodey came through the door, along with Pierce, Phillips and Fury. Rhodey unbuttoned his coat to show off his entry for the ugly tie contest: a cross-eyed Rudolph with a red nose that actually lit up, thanks to a 9-volt battery. After Pepper declared Rhodey the winner, Tony decided that next year, his Christmas tree tie would not only light up, but blink “Merry Christmas” in Morse code. 

“C’mon son, let’s make the rounds.” Howard said, giving Tony’s tie a stern look; he quickly took it off and stuffed it in his pocket. Tony was gratified to hear Pierce talking with Phillips about expanding the budget for the SAMFR order to include the enhancements he’d just demonstrated, and Howard seemed pleased as well. As for Obie, he was in fine form and already on the tipsy side. “Heard you brought your robot along for the weekend, my boy,” Obie commented, “Gonna set it up to watch for Santa?” He roared with laughter at his own joke, so Tony reluctantly joined in. 

Dinner was served at eight, and Tony was seated between Pepper and Phillips, with Rhodey across the table. They talked shop for awhile, but at Pepper’s gentle prodding, moved on to college stories, of which they all had quite a few. After dinner, Maria insisted on the traditional carols at the spinet -- so the group adjourned to the conservatory, where the grand piano, freshly tuned, awaited them. 

While Tony was pleasantly surprised at Pepper’s singing voice -- a warm, strong alto -- it wasn’t any surprise to see Rhodey finagle his way into standing right next to her. There’d been some more flirting between them over the course of the evening but Tony was a little concerned that Rhodey would push a little too far and make things awkward. 

On the way back to the resort, Tony finally breached the subject with Pepper. “I’m afraid Rhodey’s got a little crush on you.” 

She sighed. “Yes, I know. And I like him too, just not in the same ways.” 

“Want me to talk to him and explain?” 

“I’ll take care of it,” Pepper replied. “But thanks.” 

 

The next morning, Tony fumed as he got ready for the brunch. “Dammit, Steve, it’s not fair.” 

“What, that I don’t get to stuff myself silly while listening to people I don’t even know drone on about things I couldn’t care less about?” Steve responded dryly. 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Tony snapped back. It had been almost painful, being back in the house where they had spent the best weekend of his life so far, without him. Tony had tried not to dwell on the situation, but it was hitting him hard now. He couldn’t help but imagine how wonderful it would have been to make the announcement about their engagement at the party and have gotten the same reaction they had from their friends - cheers and congratulations. 

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry that being who I am has made things so difficult for us,” Steve said, coming up behind Tony to wrap his arms around him. Tony turned in Steve’s embrace to rest his forehead on Steve’s chest a moment before looking up into his beloved’s eyes. 

“I love everything you are, sunshine. It’s just a hell of a double-whammy. Secret identities and homophobia suck.” He felt Steve’s rueful chuckle reverberate through his body.

“That they do. Now get going. Don’t want your mom to send someone after you.” 

 

Tony had just finished his second plate and was pondering whether to check out the pastry table or the make-your-own-crepes station when Howard came up to him. 

“Come with me for a moment, Tony.” Tony recognized his father’s plastered-on media smile and caught a note of urgency in his voice. 

“Sure thing, Dad.” He excused himself from the table and followed his father out into the deserted hallway. “What’s up?” 

“It’s Doctor Radcliffe,” Howard said, grasping Tony’s arm. “I hadn’t been able to reach him for over a week; seemed he’d gone missing. So I set a private investigator to do a little sniffing around. I got a call this morning that Radcliffe’s body was pulled from the East River.” Before Tony knew quite what to think of this gruesome bit of news, Howard continued.

“It’s only a matter of time before they connect the dots, Tony. So your mother and I are going to leave for Bermuda tonight. She’ll squawk about it, but we’ve got to stay ahead of them. You and Steve need to keep your heads down for a while as well. You haven’t shown anyone the plans I gave you, have you, son?” 

The abrupt change in topic threw Tony off for a moment. “Uh, no. Haven’t even looked at the blueprints much myself. I’ve been busy with SAMFR.” 

“I need you to keep those safe for now. When I get back, we can make good use of them. Now, let’s get back to the brunch before anyone notices we’re gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scream with/at me in the comments or over on [ Tumblr](https://polizwrites.tumblr.com/)


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before leaving the brunch, Fury has a quiet word with Tony, and Tony says goodbye to his mother. Pepper drives Steve and Tony home where they are awakened by a heartbreaking phone call later that night. Clint accompanies Steve and Tony back to the beach resort, where they meet the Jarvises, Peggy and Fury, who are trying to sort out what caused the fatal car crash. Tony retrieves his SON cameras which provide devastating evidence that the crash was no accident.
> 
> 6/14/17 - ETA: The final (for now) [ Interlude](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10444104/chapters/25006005) (Pepper POV) provides a bit of a post-script to the fic and I recommend going to check it out once you're done here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: passes around baskets of kittens and puppies :: Just remember I love you all....

Tony found himself unexpectedly shaken by Howard’s news -- he couldn’t help but wonder if his father’s paranoia actually had some basis in fact. Tony stepped outside to take a stroll on the boardwalk to help clear his mind. Without a coat, the wind off the ocean bit all the way down to his bones, but it also blew away the stifling feeling of having to keep pretending to be something he wasn’t. 

“Stark!” A voice behind him called out, and he turned. It was Deputy Director Fury, his long black trench coat waving in the wind. Tony stopped to let the older man catch up with him. 

“Yes, sir?” 

“Just wanted to say that robot of yours is really something. I might have some of our SHIELD R&D guys come talk to you, see if you’d consider helping us out on some projects we have going.”

“I’m flattered, sir,” Tony replied. “But of course, I’d have to plan any consulting around my duties at SI.” 

“Understood. By the way, I was wondering how friendly you are with your neighbor.” Tony blinked in confusion at the abrupt change in topic.” 

“Who, Clint?”

“Agent Barton, yes.” Fury replied, as if the answer had been obvious.

“Well, we chat in the hallway, and he sometimes comes over for pizza and a movie. Why do you ask?” 

“Wanted to know if he’s said anything about the Russian girl to you.” Tony hadn’t realized Clint was still on the Roman case, or for that matter, that there was still a case to be pursued. 

“No sir, can’t say that he has.” Tony didn’t quite see the point of this conversation, but he figured it was best to be polite to the second in command at SHIELD. 

“What about your father? Has he seemed distracted or particularly secretive lately?” 

“Not that I’ve particularly noticed, but I’ve been pretty busy with my own projects,” Tony replied. If he were going to speak to anyone about Howard’s behaviour, it would be Aunt Peggy, not a man he barely knew. 

“Well, if you or your roommate see or hear anything out of the ordinary, let me know.” Fury handed over a business card. 

“I’d be happy to oblige, sir.” 

 

Tony went to find his mother and say his goodbyes before driving back to the city. “Looks like another successful weekend, Mom -- and I’m not a bit surprised. Since Pepper and I have to work in the morning, I think we’re going to be on our way.” 

“Thank you, dear. And I’d better wrap things up here as well. Did your father tell you he wanted to leave for Bermuda tonight? Claimed he had a business meeting tomorrow in Hamilton. I swear, I haven’t gotten that man to simply relax and and enjoy a vacation in at least a decade. Hopefully, we won’t be back in the city before the first of the year.” 

Tony thought of his own New Years’ plans and the small box tucked away on top of his bookcase. “I might have some important news to tell you when you return, Mom.” 

“Oh, Tony!” Maria exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she looked around for Pepper. 

“Don’t say anything,” he cautioned. “It’s a surprise.” One hell of a surprise, he thought. 

Still beaming, his mother kissed him on the cheek. “I’m so happy for you, dear. I wish you both the best. I love you, Tony.” 

“Love you too, Mom.” 

 

Tony let Pepper and Steve lead the conversation on the way home, as he felt emotionally exhausted by the whirlwind of events. Pepper gave him a look of concern when they dropped her off, but she simply said she’d see him at the office the next day. He was just pulling into their neighborhood before he remembered the SON cameras had gotten left behind. Damn. He’d call up to the beach house in the morning; Jarvis and Ana would still be there setting things to rights and he’d ask if they’d mind bringing the equipment back to the city. 

Steve got the luggage and they trudged up the stairs to their apartment. Tony lay down on the couch with a groan; it felt good to be home again. He moved enough to let Steve sit down, putting his head in his beloved’s lap and sighing heavily as Steve stroked his hair. 

“Hell of a weekend,” He opened his eyes to see Steve’s smiling fondly down on him. 

“You did good, sweetheart. Let’s get something to eat and head to bed.” 

 

The phone rang in the wee hours of the morning. Steve answered it, but then nudged Tony, saying, “It’s for you.” 

“H’lo?” Tony mumbled. 

“Tony. There’s been an accident. Your parents...” It was Jarvis, sounding more grave than Tony had ever heard him be.

“What? What happened?” A jolt of adrenaline ran through him. There was silence on the line for a moment, then Ana spoke. 

“Your parents, dear one. They’re gone.” Of course they were gone, Tony thought confusedly, Dad had said they were flying to Bermuda. Then the true meaning of her words hit him. 

“No.... no... that.... that can’t be right ....” he stammered, his blood running cold. Steve took the phone from his lax hand. 

“Could you repeat that, Ana?” Steve asked carefully. He listened for a moment, then said,” Can I speak to your husband, please? Yes, Mr. Jarvis, it’s Steve.” A lengthy pause. “Of course. Yes, that’s a good idea. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” 

Steve put down the phone, took Tony’s hands and said, “Tony, why don’t you shower and get dressed. I need to go ask Clint for a favor.” He pulled on sweats and left the bedroom. 

It was a dream, it had to be a dream, or a nightmare. But he didn’t wake up, not after the shower, not after getting dressed, not even after meeting Clint in the hallway and getting pulled into a completely unexpected hug. 

“Tony... man, I am so sorry,” Clint said, his voice rough as he clapped him on the back twice before releasing him. He then turned to Steve, all business. “Where we headed?” 

“Do you know how to get to Montauk?” Steve said, handing over the keys to Tony’s car. 

Steve had pushed the passenger seat all the way up before climbing in the back with Tony, for what little extra legroom it gave him. But Tony was immensely thankful to have Steve by his side literally as well as figuratively during the long drive back out to the far side of the Island. Tony had expected that they’d go out to the house, but instead, Steve directed Clint to the resort. 

“Mr. Jarvis said we’d find them here, as it’s more of a central location than the beach house,” he explained. 

The sky was so overcast they could barely tell that the sun had come up; the weatherman on the radio warned that squalls were in the forecast. Stepping back into the lobby they’d left less than twenty four hours previously, they found not only Jarvis, but Fury and Peggy, who opened her arms as soon as she saw Tony. 

“Oh, Auntie...” he said, his voice breaking. She held him close, one hand rubbing his back as she tried to console him. As the men introduced themselves, Tony could have sworn he heard Fury call Steve ‘Captain’. He supposed the secret identity could only have lasted so long around an organization designed to ferret out the truth. 

“Agent Barton, come with me out to the accident site,” Fury commanded. “We convinced the local authorities not to move the car until we could give the area a good look in the daylight. Director Carter, Mr. Jarvis -- you’re on the phones. Keep trying to get a hold of Stane and check back with the security company. I can’t believe they don’t have backups.” 

“What about me, sir?” Steve asked. Tony turned his head to see Fury give Steve a once-over. 

“Alright, Rogers -- you’re with Barton and me. Can always use another pair of eyes.” Steve glanced over to Tony, who gave a small nod. He knew Steve would feel more useful actually doing something rather than sitting with him. 

The three men left, and Tony followed Jarvis and Aunt Peggy back to one of the hotel rooms. Ana was already there, jotting down some notes. When she saw Tony, tears welled up in her eyes. 

“My darling boy, I’m so sorry...” She motioned him over for an embrace, patting his head and murmuring in Yiddish. Her familiar perfume calmed him, bringing him back to the days when a skinned knee or pinched finger was the most painful thing that had ever happened to him. 

“I’ve started making arrangements,” Jarvis broke in. “But there’s a great deal left to do.” 

Tony tried to keep busy, going down to the hotel desk to ask for their New York City area phone books and bringing back coffee and pastries from the coffee shop. He considered calling Pepper and Rhodey, to let them know what happened. But he didn’t think he could say the words. A numb feeling crept over him, almost as if there were a glass wall forming around him. Tony was only half-listening when Jarvis finally reached Obie and broke the news. 

“If you must know, Mr. Stane, the accident happened on Cliff Drive, that last nasty curve just before you reach the highway.” Jarvis responded sharply to what he must have considered an inappropriate inquiry. Tony suddenly remembered the cameras. 

“Aunt Peggy, I need to go out there,” he told her. 

“Anthony, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she replied, concern written all over her face. 

“I put cameras out there, as part of my robot demonstration,” he insisted. “I forgot to take them down afterwards. They might have recorded what happened.” That got her attention. 

“All right, Tony. Get your coat on.” 

Tony suspected Peggy was taking the back roads on purpose, as it would be less likely for them to run into the tow truck hauling the wreck of his father’s car back into town. He assumed his parents’ remains had already been taken to either the local morgue for an autopsy or a funeral home. He couldn’t remember if anyone had told him where they were. He didn’t know if he’d be asked to identify them. Or if he even could, depending on how bad the accident had been.

“Tony,” Peggy’s concerned voice broke his reverie. She reached out with her free hand towards his. Only then did he realize he’d been clenching his fist so hard he’d drawn blood with his nails. “Perhaps we should have waited. Steve or Clint could have--” 

“No,” Tony interrupted, “I want to be there. To see with my own eyes what happened.” He wiped away the wetness on his cheeks. “I want to say goodbye.” 

The air still stank of spilled gasoline. Its trunk split nearly in two, the tree the car had hit would almost certainly need to be cut down. The dirt road was too solid, too frozen to clearly show any skidmarks or tire tracks. He couldn’t help but wonder if his father had tried to calm his nerves and had one too many before getting behind the wheel. Tony would have to tell Aunt Peggy about his father’s erratic behaviour and secret activity over the past few months... but just not right now. He had a job to do. 

Tony retrieved his cameras and hard drives. He wouldn’t know if the equipment had survived the bitterly cold nights until he could hook everything up to his computer. By the time they got back to the resort, the others had returned as well. Peggy insisted they all have lunch before resuming their work but Tony had absolutely no appetite, The soup he’d ordered grew cold in front of him as he sat and stared out at the ocean. Not even Steve’s warm, solid presence next to him kept the numbness at bay. 

“Is it just me,” Fury said, “or is it more than a little suspicious that the facility where the footage from the surveillance cameras is sent was broken into and vandalized last night?” He turned to Tony. “Carter says your cameras might have recorded the accident, Stark.”

“Yes, but I don’t have any way of checking. I didn’t think to bring my laptop with me.” 

“I bet there’s a computer around here the staff could be persuaded to let us borrow,” Fury replied. “Would that work, or do you need special equipment? Software?” 

“I should be able to kludge something together,” Tony stated. 

“Good.” About twenty minutes later, Fury was wheeling in a catering cart with a monitor, a CPU and keyboard, along with a pile of cables into their hotel room “Have at it.” 

With the help of a sharp knife and some duct tape, Tony cobbled together what he needed to connect the hard drives to the computer. He panicked for a moment when he realized the borrowed system didn’t have software to play the video, but then remembered he’d installed a simple playback program on the hard drives themselves. 

“I think it’s ready to go, sir.” Tony said. He’d found a large file on both drives with the same timestamp: 12/16/1991 07:00 PM. He started with the camera that was further away from the impact site, thinking that perhaps it would provide a better view of the event. 

“Agent Barton, Mister Stane should be arriving any time,” Aunt Peggy said, “Please ask him to wait for us in the lobby.” Clint glanced at Fury, who gave a curt nod. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Clint replied and left the room. Ana had gone to lie down after lunch, which left Tony, Steve, Jarvis, Aunt Peggy and Fury in the hotel room. “Deputy Director Fury, if you would--” Peggy started.

“No, I would not,” Fury responded crisply. “I think I need to be right here.” Steve shot Peggy a glance, but she shook her head slightly. Tony didn’t care whether Fury stayed or went. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to stay, to see what happened. Tony pressed the ENTER key to start the playback. 

His father’s car was moving fast -- too fast -- when the video started; Tony thought he saw something pass by the vehicle as it skidded at an angle around the curve before coming to a terrible, abrupt stop. The car was on the opposite side of the road from the camera, having crashed head on into a massive tree. They couldn’t see its left side, only the rear and a bit of the right. A motorcycle coming the other way entered the frame and stopped. What kind of idiot rode a motorcycle in the winter on country roads, Tony wondered. 

“Wait a minute” Fury said, “Mr. Jarvis, didn’t you say you were the first one on the scene?”

“I thought I was,” Jarvis responded disbelievingly. “When the SI jet pilot called the house to see what was delaying the Starks, I went to see if they’d stopped somewhere in town, and I found this instead.” Peggy waved at them to be silent as the rider dismounted the cycle and walked slowly to the passenger’s side of the car; a strange reaction for anyone coming upon such a horrific accident. 

He -- Tony assumed the rider was a he -- opened the door and appeared to be reaching inside, but the car itself obscured what was going on. Maybe he was checking for a pulse, or attempting to communicate with Maria. But why wasn’t he going for help? The edge of town was only 10 minutes away, maybe fifteen minutes at most on the slick roads. 

Tony hadn’t realized he was clenching his fists again until Steve took his hand and laced his own fingers through Tony’s, moving to stand close behind him, silently offering his strength and support. 

They saw movement inside the vehicle, then the driver’s side door opened partway before swinging suddenly the rest of the way open, as if someone had violently pushed it from the inside. His father. Howard must not have died in the crash, at least not right away. He had still been alive and had been trying to go for help.

The motorcycle rider rounded the vehicle, bending down out of their view for much too long. They watched him rise slowly, lifting something. Tony gasped when he realized that what the man was putting back into the driver’s seat was Howard’s body. The trunk lid popped open, and the man retrieved a case. Strangely, he walked over to the pole and held the case up to the security camera before returning to the motorcycle and driving off. 

Tony was in shock. It hadn’t been an accident. The crash had been deliberate, almost certainly caused by the motorcycle rider, with that case as his objective. Howard had been right all along, and not only hadn’t it saved him, but it had taken his wife, Tony’s mother was well. A wave of grief crashed over Tony, pulling him under to drown.

“Anthony, dear. Do you know what was in that case?” Peggy’s voice trembled as she put a hand on his shoulder. Tony knew the question was important, that the answer was important, but it was all so complicated. He didn’t know where to start, all he could do was nod as tears spilled down his cheeks. Heedless of their company, Steve embraced him, whispering words of comfort as Tony clung to his beloved. 

“Tony,” Fury broke in after a moment, brisk and businesslike, “Your other camera, wasn’t it on the same pole as the association’s camera?” It was somehow a relief to not hear sympathy or commiseration from the man; he’d simply asked a question. A question with an easy answer. Tony stepped away from Steve and turned to face the Deputy Director. 

“Yes, just a little lower down,” Tony quietly responded.

“Then play that video, please. It should give us a good look at the suspect’s face.” 

Watching the events unfold a second time nearly undid Tony, even as Steve continued to hold him close. This angle showed the driver’s side of the car clearly. Tony saw his father, broken and bleeding, fall out of the open door, stubbornly crawling only a few feet before the man grabbed him and pulled him up by the hair. Raising his fist, the killer struck Howard hard again and again until he was limp and lifeless. 

When the assassin held up the case to the security camera, they could see his left hand glinting like metal. “I know who that is,” Peggy breathed. “It’s the Winter Soldier.” 

“No,” said Steve, his voice cracking. “It’s Bucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: heaves a huge sigh :: After over seven months and ninety-thousand words - this story comes to a close. I thank everyone who made it all the way through this fic - the Constant Readers who supported me after every chapter posting, and those of you joining us now that it's complete. Come say hello over on tumblr: https://polizwrites.tumblr.com/ and don't forget to check out the Interludes companion fic - I've posted a few pieces there to help wrap up some loose ends. 
> 
> For what it's worth, this fic was never intended to be a full and complete fix-it. IMHO, the loss of his parents at an early age is a crucial part of Tony's character development. I could argue that Tony is better off here, with Aunt Peggy, Pepper and especially Steve by his side. The identification of the Winter Soldier nearly three decades earlier than in MCU canon presumably is also a positive thing.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Smile That Lit Up the Aviary](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9558419) by [smolsofa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolsofa/pseuds/smolsofa)
  * [A Good Morning Note](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9883325) by [smolsofa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolsofa/pseuds/smolsofa)
  * [The Lengths That I Will Go To - Interludes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10444104) by [Politzania](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/pseuds/Politzania)




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